Stieli 


Received 


87^ 


UM.BANCROto^S 

;  S^Sr^if 

*fl  MARKET  **' 

^4+VI'RAyCfS  CO. 


FRONTISPIECE. 


Happy  Home. 


ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROTHERS,  No.  "285  BROADWAY. 


HAPPY    HOME: 


AFFECTIONATELY      INSCRIBED     TO 


THE  WORKING  PEOPLE. 


REV.  JAMES   HAMILTON,  D.  D., 

AUTHOR    OF    "LIFE   IN    EARNEST,"     "HARP   ON   THE  WILLOW3," 
'   MOUNT  OF  OLIVES,"  "  THANKFULNESS,"  "  LIFE  OF  HALL,"  ETC. 


Xftiurtratioxa  br> 


NEW    YORK: 
ROBERT    CARTER   &   BROTHERS 

530    BROADWAY- 

1860. 


CONTENTS. 


PAOE. 

THE  FRIEND  OF  THE  PEOPLE 9 

THE  SHIP  OF  HEAVEN 26 

A  BUNCH  IN  THE  HAND,  AND  MORE  ON  THE  BUSH  60 

THE  GUN  OR  THE  GOSPEL 95 

THE  OASIS 120 

THE  FIRESIDE , 148 

DAT-DREAMS 182 

FIRE-FLIES 5i03 

THE  FAITHFUL  SERVANT 237 

THE  TRUE  DISCIPLB 266 


PREFACE. 


THE  writer  of  the  following  pages  has  some  ac- 
quaintance with  working-men.  In  early  life  he 
numbered  many  of  them  among  his  friends  —  was 
admitted  to  their  meetings  for  religious  and  intel- 
lectual improvement  —  and  at  the  table  of  a  noble- 
minded  relative,  who  regarded  piety  as  the  true 
gentility,  he  met  them  as  frequent  guests.  Sub- 
sequent years  have  given  him  no  reason  to  regret 
that  intercourse,  nor  to  repudiate  those  ancient 
friendships  ;  but  they  have  taught  him  that  British 
Christianity  is  ill  acquainted  with  British  indus- 
try. Seldom,  for  instance,  has  he  found  a  reli- 
gious book  entirely  suited  to  the  laborer  as  he  is. 
We  have  good  books  in  abundance,  but  they  are 
usually  written  with  an  eye  to  the  parlor  or  bou- 
doir. And  we  have  myriads  of  tracts  ;  but  their 
topics  and  their  style  are  mostly  a  tradition  from 
Hannah  More,  and  do  not  meet  our  modern  exi- 


gency.  "  Sorrowful  Sam"  and  "  Diligent  Dick" 
are  gone  the  way  of  all  living,  and  a  new  gener- 
ation has  started  up :  a  generation  shrewd,  active, 
and  knowing ;  a  generation  of  vigorous  minds, 
fond  of  information,  and  bent  on  improvement. 
To  that  generation  these  papers  are  inscribed. 
Their  author  writes  for  the  English  and  Scottish 
operative,  for  the  mechanic,  the  daily  laborer,  and 
the  artisan.  He  does  not  constitute  himself  their 
patron  or  their  censor ;  he  will  be  content  if  he 
can  earn  the  name  of  friend.  And  with  a  view 
.o  this,  he  will  tell  the  truths  which  he  deems 
most  urgent ;  and  tell  them  simply,  as  they  are 
simple  to  his  own  perception  —  and  briefly,  for 
they  are  busy  men  whose  leisure  he  solicits. 

With  politics  he  does  not  intermeddle.  From 
his  faith  in  Christianity,  he  has  great  hope  for  the 
popular  future  ;  but,  anxious  to  secure  a  tranquil 
hearing  for  matters  more  urgent,  he  abstains  from 
subjects  of  ephemeral  intere&t.  He  has  too  much 
love  for  the  gospel  to  employ  it  as  gilding  for 
party-prescriptions,  and  too  much  reverence  for 
the  Bible  to  use  it  as  a  bird-lime  for  the  poli- 
ticians who  fly,  or  a  ground-bait  for  those  who 
grovel.  So  far  as  it  is  known  to  himself,  his  aim 
is  philanthropic,  and  he  asks  no  help  from  any 
civil  faction.  Nor  is  he  recruiting  for  a  religious 
sect.  He  has  his  favorite  haunts,  and  it  is  long 
since  he  fixed  his  denominational  dwelling.  Bui 


PREFACE. 


Kent  need  not  contend  with  Cornwall,  because 
the  one  fends  off  the  sea  with  cliffs  of  chalk,  and 
the  other  with  granite  bulwarks ;  or  because  the 
one  gleans  its  wealth  on  the  surface,  and  the  other 
digs  it  from  the  depths.  Each  is  a  portion  of  the 
same  favored  isle,  and  each  helps  to  make  the 
other  rich.  And,  blessed  be  God  !  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  evangelic  patriotism.  The  writer  seeks 
the  extension  of  the  universal  church.  His  creed 
is  the  gospel ;  his  sect  is  Christianity  ;  and  "  One 
is  his  Master,  even  Jesus  Christ." 

His  mission  is  to  working-men.  He  knows 
that  few  of  them  are  happy.  Some  of  them  sub- 
scribe to  the  sentiment  of  a  popular  Frenchman : 
"  The  Redeemer  has  come  ;  the  redemption  is  not 
come  yet."  They  forget  that  it  was  to  the  world 
that  the  Redeemer  came,  and  that  it  is  to  the  in- 
dividual that  the  redemption  comes.  To  render 
evident  this  truth  is  the  object  of  the  following 
pages  ;  and  in  the  attempt  we  shall  take  for 
guides  those  famous  working-men  who  once  rev- 
olutionized the  world,  and  who  infected  many  a 
gloomy  spirit  with  their  own  exuberant  blessed- 
ness. Listening  to  their  lesson,  we  learn  that 
God  has  made  every  man  the  keeper  of  his  own 
comfort.  We  find  that  happiness  is  not  a  politi- 
cal adjustment,  but  a  personal  possession.  We 
are  told  that,  however  wrong  the  state  of  society, 
the  religion  of  Jesus  is  portable  and  self-contained 


8  PREFACE. 


felicity.  We  shall  go  back  to  the  times  of  these 
tent-makers,  and  sit  beside  them  as  they  shape 
the  canvass  and  carve  the  stretching-pins,*  and 
will  ask  them  why  they  sicg  those  stately  psalms, 
and  feel  so  rich  amid  their  poverty.  And  wheth- 
er read  in  an  English  cottage  or  on  a  colonial 
wild,  by  the  village  laborer  or  the  city  artisan, 
we  trust  and  pray  that  the  answer  may  reveal  to 
some  who  have  not  found  it  yet  —  the  secret  of  a 
HAPPY  HOME. 
SATURDAY,  Jane  17,  18-18. 

*  Asia  miii.  3 


PETER   THE   GKEAT. 


Happy  Home. 


p.  9 


THE 


HAPPY   HOME' 


THE  FRIEND  OF  THE  PEOPLE, 

LAST  century  a  Russian  emperor  gained 
much  renown  by  the  exertions  and  sacri- 
fices he  made  for  his  dominions.  Impressed 
by  their  savage  state,  and  eager  to  introduce 
the  arts  and  accomplishments  of  more  cul- 
tured nations,  he  resolved  to  become  him- 
self the  engineer  and  preceptor  of  his  peo- 
ple. Instead  of  sending  a  few  clever  men 
to  glean  what  they  could  in  foreign  regions, 
he  determined  to  be  his  own  envoy;  and 
leaving  his  Moscow  palace,  he  set  out  to 
travel  in  Holland  and  Great  Britain.  He 


iO  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

was  particularly  anxious  to  carry  home  the 
art  of  naval  architecture ;  for  he  wisely 
judged,  that  without  ships  and  seamen,  his 
empire  would  never  he  able  to  turn  its  own 
resources  to  account.  However,  he  soon 
found  that  no  man  could  learn  to  be  a  ship- 
builder by  merely  looking  on;  but  what- 
ever it  might  need,  Peter  was  determined 
to  do.  With  a  noble  energy,  he  changed 
his  gay  clothing  for  the  garb  of  a  carpen- 
ter, and  spent  week  after  week  in  the  build- 
ing-yard at  Saardam,  wielding  the  hatchet, 
flourishing  the  tar-brush,  and  driving  bolts 
till  the  pent-house  rang  again  ;  and  soon 
was  he  able  to  go  borne  and  teach  his 
people  how  to  build  ships  for  themselves. 
No  wonder  that,  while  other  monarcbs  are 
depicted  in  purple  and  ermine,  the  artist 
should  prefer  representing  Peter,  the  czar 
of  Muscovy,  in  his  red  woollen  jacket,  and 
crowned  with  the  glazed  hat  of  a  sailor,  with 
a  timber  log  for  his  throne,  and  an  adze  for 
his  sceptre.  And  no  wonder  that  a  grateful 
country  should  rear  to  his  memory  the 


THE  FRIEND  OF  THE  PEOPLE.        11 

proudest  column  in  the  world,  and  christen 
by  his  name  its  capita]. 

Far  nobler  than  this  achievement  of  the 
emperor  Peter,  are  some  facts  recorded  in 
the  history  of  philanthropy.  It  was  a  no- 
bler thing,  for  instance,  when,  in  order  to 
gain  personal  knowledge  of  its  horrors,  and 
to  be  able  to  testify  against  them  afterward, 
an  English  gentleman  took  his  passage  in 
an  African  slaver,  and  submitted  voluntarily 
to  months  of  filth  and  fever,  at  the  peril  of 
his  life,  and  to  the  hourly  torture  of  his 
feelings.  And  still  nobler  was  the  conduct 
of  those  angelic  missionaries,  who,  finding 
no  other  way  to  introduce  the  gospel  among 
the  negroes  of  Barbadoes,  sold  themselves 
to  slavery,  and  then  told  their  fellow-bonds- 
men the  news  which  sets  the  spirit  free. 
And  noblest  of  all  was  the  self-devotion 
of  two  Moravians,  of  whom  some  of  you 
have  read.  They  were  filled  with  pity  for 
the  inmates  of  a  fearful  lazaretto.  It  was 
an  enclosure  in  which  persons  afflicted  with 
leprosy  were  confined  ;  and  so  terrified  for 


12  THE   HAPPY    HOME. 

its  contagion  were  the  people,  that  once 
within  the  dismal  gates,  no  one  was  suffered 
to  quit  them  again.  But  the  state  of  its 
doomed  inmates  so  preyed  on  these  com- 
passionate men,  that  they  resolved  at  all 
hazard  to  cheer  them  in  captivity,  and  to 
try  to  save  their  souls.  They  counted  the 
cost.  They  said:  "  Farewell,  freedom  — 
farewell,  society  —  farewell,  happy  sun  and 
healthy  breezes ;"  and  passed  the  return- 
less  portals,  each  a  living  sacrifice. 

The  state  of  our  world  touched  with 
compassion  the  Son  of  God.  He  left  his 
home  in  heaven,  and  came  hither.  The 
King  of  kings  put  off  his  glory.  He  came 
to  this  scene  of  guilt  and  misery.  He  left 
the  adoring  fellowship  above,  and  came 
down  among  creatures  who  disliked  him, 
and  could  not  comprehend  him.  On  his 
benevolent  errand,  he  alighted  on  this 
plague-stricken  planet,  and  became  for 
more  than  thirty  years  identified  with  its 
inmates,  and  in  perpetual  contact  with  its 
sin  and  its  sorrow.  And  while  his  eye  was 


THE  FRIEND  OF  THK  PEOPLE.         13 

intent  on  some  bright  consummation,  he 
did  not  grudge  to  be  for  many  years  the 
exile  and  prisoner,  and  at  last  the  victim. 

And  I  think  it  should  be  interesting  to 
you,  to  remember  the  lot  in  human  life 
which  the  Saviour  selected.  He  had  his 
choice.  He  might  have  chosen  for  his 
residence  a  mansion  or  a  palace  ;  but  he 
chose  for  his  domicil,  so  long  as  he  had 
one,  the  cottage  of  a  carpenter.  He  cast 
his  earthly  lot  alongside  of  the  laboring 
man  ;  and  besides  the  intentional  lowlihood, 
there  were  other  ends  it  answered. 

It  lent  new  dignity  to  labor.  Some  silly 
people  feel  it  a  disgrace  to  work ;  they 
blush  to  be  detected  in  an  act  of  industry. 
They  fancy  that  it  is  dignity  to  have  nothing 
to  do,  and  a  token  of  refinement  to  be  able 
to  do  nothing.  They  forget  that  it  is  easy 
to  be  useless,  and  that  it  needs  no  talent  to 
cumber  the  ground.  But  the  Lord  Jesus 
knew  that  it  is  best  for  the  world  when  all 
are  workers  ;  and  he  conformed  to  the  good 
rule  of  Palestine,  which  required  every  cit- 
2 


14  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

izen  to  pursue  some  employment.  And 
instead  of  selecting  a  brilliant  occupation, 
he  gave  himself  to  one  humble  and  com- 
monplace, that  we  might  learn  how  possible 
it  is  to  do  extraordinary  good  in  a  very 
inconspicuous  station. 

And  by  this  selection  he  left  an  example 
to  working  men.  Rough  work  is  no  rea- 
son for  rude  manners  or  a  vulgar  mind. 
Never  did  there  traverse  the  globe  a  pres- 
ence so  pure,  and  a  fascination  so  divine, 
as  moved  about  in  the  person  of  the  "  car- 
penter's son."  So  gentle  in  his  dignity; 
so  awful  in  his  meekness  ;  so  winsome  in 
his  lovingness ;  so  dexterous  in  diffusing 
happiness ;  so  delicate  in  healing  inward 
hurts  ;  so  gracious  in  forestalling  wishes ! 
no  rules  of  etiquette,  no  polish  of  society, 
can  ever  yield  anew  the  same  majestic 
suavity.  Amid  the  daily  drudgery,  his 
soul  was  often  swelling  with  its  wondrous 
purpose  ;  and  while  shaping  for  the  bkoors 
of  Galilee  their  implements  of  industry,  his 
spirit  was  commercing  with  the  sky.  They 


THE    FRIEND    OF    THE    PEOPLE.  15 

are  not  little  occupations,  but  little  thoughts 
and  little  notions,  which  make  the  little 
man  ;  and  the  grandeur  of  mien,  and  the 
engaging  manners,  which  emerged  from 
that  Nazarene  workshop,  are  a  lesson  to 
those  who  handle  the  hammer,  the  spade, 
or  the  shuttle.  But  far  more, — the  sanc- 
tity. In  a  town  of  bad  repute  —  forced 
into  the  company  of  ruffians  and  blas- 
phemers,—  all  the  uncongenial  fellowship 
showed  him  the  more  conspicuously  "holy, 
harmless,  undefiled,  separate  from  sinners." 
And  if  you  complain  that  you  are  shut  up 
to  the  society  of  loose  and  low-minded 
men  —  if  constrained  to  listen  to  words 
ribald  and  profane,  or  to  witness  coarse 
debauchery  —  remember  that  it  was  in  the 
guise  of  a  laboring  man  that  the  Saviour 
fought  the  world's  corruption,  and  over- 
came. And  if  like  to  be  worsted,  cry  for 
help  to  Him  who,  among  his  other  mem- 
ories of  earth,  remembers  Galilee; — who, 
now  that  he  has  done  with  the  carpenter's 
shop  for  ever,  has  not  forgotten  the  surly 


THE   HAPPY   HOME. 


neighbors  and  the  abandoned  town ;  and 
whose  solitary  example  destroyed  the  prov- 
erb, "  Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of 
Nazareth  ?" 

And  by  choosing  this  humble  lot,  the 
Saviour  learned  to  sympathize  with  penury. 
Whatever  wealthy  bards  may  sing  of  the 
sweets  of  poverty,  it  is  a  painful  thing  to 
be  very  poor.  To  be  a  poor  man's  child, 
and  look  through  the  rails  of  the  play- 
ground, and  envy  richer  boys  for  the  sake 
of  their  many  books,  and  yet  be  doomed  to 
ignorance  ;  to  be  apprenticed  to  some  harsh 
stranger,  and  feel  for  ever  banished  from  a 
mother's  tenderness  and  a  sister's  love ;  to 
work  when  very  weary ;  to  work  when  the 
heart  is  sick  and  the  head  is  sore  ;  to  see  a 
wife  or  a  darling  child  wasting  away,  and 
not  be  able  to  get  the  best  advice  ;  to  hope 
that  better  food  or  purer  air  might  set  her 
up  again,  but  that  food  you  can  not  buy  — 
that  air  you  must  never  hope  to  breathe ; 
to  be  obliged  to  let  her  die  ;  to  come  home 
from  the  daily  task,  some  evening,  and  see 


THE  FRIEND  OF  THE  PEOPLE.        17 


her  sinking ;  to  sit  up  all  night,  in  hope  to 
catch  again  those  precious  words  you  might 
have  heard  could  you  have  afforded  to  stay 
at  home  all  day,  but  never  hear  them  ;  to 
have  no  mourners  at  the  funeral,  or  even 
carry  on  your  own  shoulder  through  the 
merry  streets  the  light  deal  coffin  ;  to  see 
huddled  into  a  promiscuous  hole  the  dust 
which  is  so  dear  to  you,  and  not  venture 
to  mark  the  spot  by  planted  flower  or  low- 
liest stone ;  some  bitter  winter,  or  some 
costly  spring,  to  barter  for  food  the  clock 
or  the  curious  cupboard,  or  the  "Henry's 
Commentary,"  on  which  you  prided  your- 
self as  the  heir-loom  of  a  frugal  family,  and 
never  be  able  to  redeem  it ;  to  feel  that 
you  are  getting  old  —  nothing  laid  aside, 
and  present  earnings  scarce  sufficient ;  to 
change  the  parlor  floor  for  the  top  story, 
and  the  top  story  for  a  single  attic,  and 
wonder  what  change  will  be  the  next;  — 
these  and  a  thousand  privations  are  the 
pains  of  poverty.  And  in  the  days  when 
the  world's  Redeemer  occupied  the  poor 
2* 


18  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

man's  home,  he  was  familiar  with  sights 
the  parallels  of  these.  He  noted  them  — 
he  entered  into  them — he  shared  them. 
Even  at  the  time,  he  did  somewhat  to 
relieve  them.  It  was  in  such  a  scene  that 
he  let  forth  the  first  glimpse  of  his  glory. 
The  scanty  store  of  wine  had  failed  at  a 
marriage-feast,  and,  to  relieve  the  embar- 
rassment of  his  humble  entertainers,  he 
created  a  new  supply.  And  it  was  in  a 
similar  scene  that  the  second  of  his  healing 
miracles  was  wrought,  and  his  entrance 
to  Simon's  fishing-hut  was  signalized  by 
restoring  from  a  fever  his  sick  mother-in- 
law.  And,  not  to  dwell  on  the  miracles 
of  mercy  which  restored  to  the  widow  of 
Nain  her  only  son,  and  to  the  sisters  of 
Bethany  their  only  brother,  it  is  worth 
while  to  notice  how  many  of  his  wonders 
were  presents  to  the  poor.  A  weary  boat- 
man has  swept  the  waves  all  night  and 
captured  not  a  single  fin.  Jesus  bids  him 
drop  the  net  in  a  particular  spot,  and 
instantly  it  welters  with  a  silvery  spoil. 


THE    FRIEND    GP    THE    PEOl'LE.  19 

Again  and  again  the  eager  throng  hangs 
round  him  till  the  sun  is  setting,  and  it  is 
discovered  that  there  are  only  a  few  small 
loaves  among  all  the  fainting  thousands; 
but  he  speaks  the  word,  and  as  little  loaves 
bulk  out  an  endless  banquet,  the  famished 
villagers  rejoice  in  the  rare  repast.  And 
though  he  did  not  grudge  his  cures  to  cen 
turions  and  rulers  of  the  synagogues,  they 
were  usually  the  poor  and  despised  who 
craved  and  got  the  largest  share  —  the 
woman  who  had  spent  on  physicians  all  that 
she  had ;  the  impotent  man  at  Bethesda ; 
the  Samaritan  lepers  ;  and  Bartimeus,  the 
blind  beggar.  And  thus  would  the  kind 
Redeemer  teach  us,  that  if  there  are  always 
to  be  the  poor  on  earth,  there  will  always 
be  the  poor  man's  Friend  in  heaven.  He 
would  teach  those  sons  of  toil  who  are  his 
true  disciples,  that  in  all  their  afflictions  he 
is  afflicted ;  that  he  knows  their  frame  and 
feels  their  sorrow.  And  should  these  lines 
be  read  by  one  who  is  indigent  in  spite  of 
all  his  industry,  let  him  remember  how  if 


JBO  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

fared  with  the  world's  best  benefactor  when 
here  below  —  let  him  remember  that  the 
Saviour  himself  had  once  nowhere  to  lay 
his  head,  and  asking  for  a  cup  of  cold 
water,  could  scarcely  obtain  it.  But  now 
that  he  has  all  power  in  heaven  and  earth, 
that  Saviour  is  as  tender  as  ever;  and 
to  you,  oh  children  of  want  and  wo!  he 
says,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor 
and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest." 

But  I  hasten  to  notice  the  greatest  boon 
which  the  Saviour  purchased.  Returning 
to  an  instance  already  mentioned  :  had  you 
seen  the  devoted  missionaries  pass  into  the 
leper  hospital,  along  with  admiration  of 
their  kindness,  you  would  have  felt  a  griev- 
ous pang  at  such  an  immolation.  To  think 
that  men  in  the  height  of  health  should  thus 
be  lost  to  the  land  of  the  living — that  good 
men  and  generous  should  be  buried  quick 
in  such  a  ghastly  grave  —  it  would  have 
oppressed  your  spirit,  and  you  could  only 
have  given  grudging  approbation  to  such  a 


THE  1  RIEND  OF  THE  PEOPLE.        21 


self-devotement.  But  if,  at  the  end  of  a 
certain  term,  they  had  appeared  at  the  gate 
again,  arid  along  with  them  a  goodly  band 
of  the  poor  victims  restored  to  perfect 
soundness;  if  it  turned  out  that  they  had 
not  only  been  able  to  mitigate  much  suffer- 
ing, but,  in  the  case  of  every  one  who  sub- 
mitted to  their  treatment,  had  effected  a 
perfect  cure ;  and  if,  on  examining  the 
matter,  the  competent  authorities  declared 
that  not  only  were  ihese  heroes  of  humanity 
themselves  uninjured,  but  that  those  whom 
they  brought  with  them  were  clean  every 
whit,  and  might  forthwith  pass  out  into  the 
world  of  the  hale  and  the  happy,  you  would 
be  more  than  reconciled  to  the  great  price 
which  purchased  such  a  wondrous  restora- 
tion. When  Immanuel  went  into  this 
world  —  when  he  first  put  human  nature 
on,  and  in  all  his  innocence  identified  him 
self  with  the  fate  of  sinful  men  —  we  might 
almost  imagine  the  anxiety  awakened  by 
this  "  mystery  of  godliness"  in  any  celes- 
tial spirit  who  did  not  foreknow  the  issue 


THE    HAPPY    HOME. 


But  when  that  issue  was  developed  — 
when,  with  a  multitude  which  no  man  can 
number,  rescued  and  restored,  the  mighty 
Redeemer  reappeared  at  the  gate  of  the 
lazaretto  —  when  infinite  purity,  and  eterna 
justice,  and  the  holy  law,  recognised  not 
only  an  immaculate  Deliverer,  hut  in  all  his 
ransomed  company  could  detect  no  stain 
of  sin,  no  spot  of  the  old  corruption  — 
when  it*was  pronounced  that  millions  of 
plague-stricken  heings  were  now  so  con- 
valescent and  so  pure,  that  they  might  even 
pass  the  pearly  gates  and  join  the  fellow- 
ship of  angels,  enough  was  seen  to  justify 
the  self-denial,  though  that  self-denial  was 
the  incarnation  of  the  Son  of  God  —  enough 
to  recompense  the  sacrifice,  though  that 
sacrifice  was  the  death  of  a  Divine  Re- 
deemer. 

But  this  was  the  simple  fact :  An  Angel 
of  mercy,  a  Volunteer  of  pure  compassion, 
the  Saviour  assumed  our  nature,  and  vis- 
ited our  world.  The  Word  was  made 
flesh,  and  dwelt  among  us.  And,  coming 


THE  FRIEND  OF  THE  PEOPLE.        23 

into  the  world,  he  came  into  a  moral  laz- 
aretto. Young  and  old,  rich  and  poor, 
every  soul  was  smitten  with  sin's  disgusting 
malady.  None  were  holy ;  none  sought 
after  God.  All  were  corrupt;  all  were,  to 
God's  pure  eye,  offensive ;  and  all  were 
sickening  toward  the  second  death.  And 
by  corning  hither  and  taking  on  the  human 
nature,  the  Son  of  God  committed  himself 
to  our  vvoful  case.  He  virtually  declared, 
that  unless  he  brought  a  convalescent  com- 
pany with  him,  he  would  return  to  heaven 
no  more.  But  the  balsam  which  alone 
could  heal  this  malady,  was  found  to  be 
very  costly.  It  must  contain,  as  an  ingre- 
dient, something  which  could  compensate 
for  sin  ;  something  so  compensating,  that 
God  would  be  a  just  God  in  forgiving  the 
sinner.  And  nothing,  it  was  found,  could 
atone  for  guilt,  save  blood  divine.  But 
Jesus  had  counted  the  cost;  and  even  this 
price  he  was  prepared  to  pay.  And  he 
paid  it:  he  offered  himself  as  the  propitia- 
tion for  sin,  and  he  was  accepted.  And 


24  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

though  among  those  whom  he  sought  to 
save  were  atheists  and  infidels,  murderers 
and  liars,  blasphemers  and  sabbath-break- 
ers, thieves  and  robbers,  drunkards  and 
debauchees,  that  one  offering  was  infinite, 
and  more  than  sufficed.  It  finished  trans- 
gression, and  the  Supreme  Judge  and  Law- 
giver proclaimed  it  to  the  world,  "  The 
blood  of  Jesus  Christ  cleanseth  from  all 
sin."  And  reappearing  at  the  gates  of 
Paradise  with  his  ransomed,  "  the  gates 
lifted  up  their  heads  ;"  and  having  long 
since  returned  from  that  errand  of  kind- 
ness, and  rejoined  the  acclaiming  celestials, 
already  has  the  King  of  Glory  been  fol- 
lowed by  many  a  trophy  of  his  life-giving 
death  and  peace-speaking  blood.  Dear 
reader,  will  not  you  be  another?  Will 
you  not  intrust  your  soul  to  One  so  skilful 
to  heal,  and  so  mighty  to  save  ?  Will  you 
not  begin  to  sing  that  new  song  even  here, 
44  Thou  art  worthy;  for  thou  wast  slain, 
and  hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by  thy 
blood?"  And  will  you  not,  from  this 


THE  FRIEND  OF  THE  PLOPLE.        25 

time  forward,  give  a  higher  place  in  your 
affections  to  that  adorable  Friend,  "  who, 
though  he  was  rich,  for  your  sakes  became 
poor,  that  ye  through  his  poverty  might 
be  rich?" 


THE  SHIP  OF  HEAVEN, 

THE  man  was  very  poor,  and  one  of 
those  poor  men  who  never  make  it  any 
better.  Always  so  laggard  and  so  listless, 
he  looked  as  if  he  had  come  into  the  world 
with  only  half  his  soul.  Having  no  fond- 
ness for  exertion,  he  had  great  faith  in  wind- 
falls ;  and  once  or  twice  he  was  favored 
with  a  windfall ;  but  as  he  took  no  pains  to 
secure  it  and  turn  it  to  account,  the  same 
fickle  element  which  brought  it  soon  wafted 
it  away.  His  character  was  gone;  his 
principles,  never  firm,  were  fast  decaying; 
and  between  laziness  and  bad  habits,  he  was 
little  belter  than  the  ruin  of  a  man.  He 
had  a  brother  far  away  ;  but  so  many  years 
had  come  and  gone  since  last  he  was  seen 
in  those  regions,  that  he  was  faintly  recollect- 
ed. Indeed,  so  long  since  was  it,  that  this 


THE  DISCONSOLATE  MAN. 


Happy  Home. 


p  27 


THE    SHIP    OF    HEAVEN.  27 

man  had  no  remembrance  of  him.  But 
one  evening  a  messenger  came  to  him,  tell- 
ing him  that  his  brother  lived,  and  in  token 
of  his  love,  had  sent  him  the  present  of  a 
gallant  ship  with  all  its  cargo.  The  man 
was  in  a  heartless  mood.  He  was  sitting  in 
his  dingy  chamber ;  no  fire  on  the  hearth, 
no  loaf  in  the  cupboard,  no  pence  in  his 
pocket,  no  credit  in  that  neighborhood, 
bleak  weather  in  the  world,  bleak  feelings 
in  his  soul.  And  as,  with  folded  arms,  he 
perched  on  an  empty  chest  and  listened  to 
the  news,  he  neither  wondered  nor  rejoiced. 
Sure  enough  it  was  a  windfall ;  but  he  was 
not  just  then  in  a  romantic  or  wistful  mood, 
and  so  he  heard  it  sullenly.  No  ;  he  neither 
danced  nor  capered,  neither  laughed  nor 
shouted,  but  coldly  walked  away  —  scarcely 
hoping,  scarcely  caring  to  find  it  true.  And 
when,  at  last,  he  reached  the  port,  and  espied 
the  ship,  it  dispelled  all  his  boyish  dreams 
of  eastern  merchantmen.  The  masts  were 
not  palms,  with  silken  cords  furling  the 
purple  sails ;  nor  did  its  bulwarks  gild  the 


23  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

water,  and  its  beams  of  sandal  scent  the 
air.  It  was  much  like  the  barques  around 
it — chafed,  and  weathered,  and  bleached  by 
the  billows,  and  bore  no  outward  token  of  a 
gorgeous  freight.  But  stepping  on  board, 
as  soon  as  the  master  of  the  vessel  knew 
who  he  was,  he  addressed  him  respectfully, 
and  descanted  with  glowing  warmth  on  the 
glories  and  generosity  of  his  absent  brother, 
and  then  invited  him  below  to  feast  his  eyes 
on  his  new  possession.  There  was  gold, 
and  the  red  ingots  looked  so  rich,  and 
weighed  in  the  hand  so  heavy;  there  were 
robes,  stiff  with  embroidery,  and  bright 
with  ruby  and  sapphire  stars ;  there  were 
spices  such  as  the  fervid  sun  distils  from 
the  fragrant  soil  in  that  exuberant  zone,  and 
dainties  such  as  only  load  the  tropic  trees. 
Nor  in  the  wealthy  invoice  had  forethought 
and  affection  omitted  any  good ;  for  there 
were  even  some  herbs  and  anodynes  of 
singular  power:  a  balm  which  healed  en- 
venomed wounds ;  an  ointment  which 
brought  back  the  failing  sight;  a  cordial 


THE   SHIP   OF    HEAVEN.  29 

which  kept  from  fainting ;  and  a  prepara- 
tion which  made  the  wearer  proof  against  the 
fire.  And  there  was  a  bulky  parchment, 
the  title-deeds  to  a  large  domain  somewhere 
in  that  sunny  land  ;  and  along  with  all  a 
letter,  distinct  and  full,  in  the  princely  do- 
nor's autograph.  Of  that  letter,  the  younger 
brother  sat  down  and  read  a  portion  there  ; 
and  as  he  read,  he  looked  around  him  to 
see  that  it  was  all  reality ;  and  then  he  read 
again,  and  his  lip  quivered,  and  his  eye 
filled,  and  as  the  letter  dropped  upon  his 
lap,  he  smote  upon  his  breast,  and  called 
himself  by  some  bitter  name.  And  then 
he  started  up  ;  and  if  you  had  only  seen 
him  —  such  an  altered  man  ;  such  energy, 
and  yet  such  mildness ;  such  affection,  and 
withal  such  heroism  as  beamed  of  a  sudden 
in  his  kindling  countenance ;  you  would 
have  thought  that,  amid  its  other  wonders, 
that  foreign  ship  had  fetched  the  remainder 
of  his  soul.  And  so  it  had.  From  that 
day  forward  he  was  another  man  ;  grudg- 
ing no  labor,  doing  nothing  by  halves,  hia 


THE    HAPPY    HOME. 


character  changed,  his  reputation  retrieved, 
his  whole  existence  filled  with  a  new  con- 
sciousness, and  inspired  hy  a  new  motive, 
and  all  his  sanguine  schemes  and  cheerful 
efforts  converging  toward  the  happy  day 
which  should  transport  him  to  the  arms  of 
that  unseen  brother. 

Reader,  have  you  lost  heart  about  your- 
self? Once  on  a  time  you  had  some  anx- 
iety about  character.  You  wished  that  you 
had  greater  strength  of  principle,  and  that 
your  moral  standing  were  more  respectable. 
You  envied  the  virtuous  energy  of  those 
friends  who  can  resist  temptation,  and  com- 
bat successfully  the  evil  influences  around 
them.  You  have  even  wished  that  you 
could  wake  up  some  morning  and  find 
yourself  a  Christian  ;  and  you  have  some- 
times hoped  that  this  happiness  might  at 
length  befall  you.  But  there  is,  as  yet,  no 
sign  of  it.  Startling  providences  have 
passed  over  you,  but  they  have  not  fright- 
ened you  out  of  your  evil  habits ;  and, 
from  time  to  time,  amiable  and  engaging 


THE    SHIP   OF   HEAVEN  31 

friends  have  gained  ascendency  over  you, 
but  they  have  not  been  able  to  allure  you 
into  the  paths  of  piety.  And  now  you  are 
discouraged.  You  know  that  some  vicious 
habit  is  getting  a  firmer  and  more  fearful 
hold  of  you,  and  if  you  durst  own  it  to 
yourself,  you  have  now  no  hope  of  a  lofty 
or  virtuous  future.  You  feel  abject,  and 
spiritless,  and  self-disgusted,  and  have 
nearly  made  up  your  mind  to  saunter  slip- 
shod down  the  road  to  ruin. 

You  do  not  remember  your  Elder 
Brother,  for  he  had  left  those  regions  be- 
fore you  were  born.  But  this  comes  to 
tell  you  that  he  lives  and  wishes  you  well. 
In  the  far  country  whither  he  has  gone,  he 
knows  how  you  are,  and  is  much  concerned 
at  your  present  condition.  And  he  feels 
for  you  none  the  less,  that  in  all  that  land 
he  is  himself  the  richest  and  the  mightiest. 
And  to  show  that,  amid  all  his  glory,  he  is 
not  ashamed  to  be  called  your  brother,  he 
has  sent  you  a  noble  gift — a  ship  freighted 
with  some  of  his  choicest  acquisitions,  and 


32  THE   HAPPT  HOME. 

bringing  everything  good   for  a  man  like 
you. 

And  be  not  vexed  nor  angry  when  I  tell 
you,  that  that  ship  of  heaven  is  THE  BIBLE. 
If,  instead  ot  touching  at  every  land  and 
coming  to  every  door — if  only  a  few  Bibles 
arrived  now  and  then  ready-made  and 
direct  from  heaven,  and  each  addressed  to 
some  particular  person  —  and  if  none  be- 
sides were  allowed  to  handle  their  contents 
or  appropriate  their  treasures  —  how  justly 
might  the  world  envy  that  favored  few ! 
But  having  purchased  gifts  for  men  while 
here  among  us,  and  being  highly  exalted 
where  he  is  gone,  the  Saviour  in  his  kind- 
ness sends  this  heaven-laden  book,  this 
celestial  argosie,  to  all  his  brethren  here 
below,  and  each  alike  is  welcome  to  its 
costly  freight.  Despise  it  not!  There  is 
nothing  dazzling  in  its  exterior.  It  is  plain 
and  unpretending.  No  rainbow  lights  its 
margin,  nor  do  phosphorescent  letters  come 
and  go  on  its  azure  pages.  But  the  wealth 
of  the  Indian  carack  is  neither  its  timbers 


THE    SHIP   OF   HEAVEN. 


nor  its  ringing ;  it  hides  its  treasure  in  the 
hold.  The  wonder  of  the  Bible  is  neither 
its  binding  nor  its  type  —  nay,  not  even 
(though  these  are  wonderful)  its  language 
and  its  style.  It  makes  God  glorious,  and 
the  reader  blessed,  by  the  wealth  it  carries 
and  the  truths  it  tells. 

To  recite  at  full  the  letter,  would  take 
too  long.  A  brother's  heart  yearns  in  it 
all ;  but  what  a  holy,  and  what  an  exalted 
brother  !  He  informs  you  that  all  power  is 
given  him  in  heaven  and  earth,  and  that 
from  his  Father  he  has  received  such  ample 
authority,  that  all  throughout  these  domin- 
ions, life  and  death  are  in  his  hands.  He 
says  that  he  is  grieved  to  know  your 
wretched  position  ;  but  he  bids  you  not  to 
lose  heart,  for  if  you  only  take  advantage 
of  what  he  has  sent  you,  there  will  be  an 
end  of  your  misery.  Aud  he  adds,  that, 
freely  and  lovingly  as  he  forwards  these 
gifts,  they  cost  him  much  ;  they  have  cost 
him  labor  and  sorrow,  groans  and  anguish, 
ears  and  blood.  He  begs  that  you  will  take 


34*  THE   HAPPY    HOME. 

frankly  what  is  given  kindly,  and  assures 
you  that  nothing  will  gladden  him  more 
than  to  hail  you  to  his  home  and  instal  you 
in  his  kingdom.  And  lest  there  be  any 
mattei  which  you  do  not  rightly  under- 
stand, and  on  which  you  would  like  fuller 
information,  or  more  help  till  then,  there  is 
a  very  wise  and  much-loved  friend  of  his, 
who  is  willing  to  come  and  abide  with  you 
until  he  and  you  shall  meet  again. 

But,  begging  you  to  read  the  letter  at 
your  leisure,  let  us  step  for  a  few  minutes 
on  board.  Let  us  glance  at  some  of  those 
costly  gifts  which  the  Saviour  purchased 
long  ago,  and  which,  in  this  Book  of 
Heaven,  he  sends  to  our  island-planet,  and 
to  the  several  abodes  of  us  sinners  who 
inhabit  it. 

And,  first  of  all,  look  at  this  fine  GOLD. 
Among  material  substances,  the  one  most 
prized  is  gold.  Not  only  is  it  very  beau- 
tiful, but  it  is  the  means  of  procuring  each 
rare  commodity.  Hence,  we  call  him  a 
rich  man  who  abounds  in  it,  and  him  a 


THE    SHIP    OF    HEAVEN. 


poor  man  who  has  got  none  of  it.  And 
in  the  spiritual  domain,  the  equivalent  of 
gold  is  goodness.  By  holy  beings,  and  by 
God  himself,  the  thing  most  prized  is  not 
money,  but  moral  worth;  not  gold,  but 
goodness.  And  when  God  first  ushered 
on  existence  his  new  creature,  man,  he  gave 
him  a  portion  of  heaven's  capital  to  begin 
with  :  he  gave  him  holy  tastes  and  dispo- 
sitions, a  pure  and  piou?  mind.  But  man 
soon  lost  it.  He  suffered  himself  to  be 
defrauded  of  his  original  righteousness ; 
and  on  that  dismal  day,  he  who  rose  the 
heir  of  immortality,  lay  down  a  bankrupt 
and  a  pauper.  All  was  lost ;  and  though 
he  tried  to  replace  it  by  a  glittering  coun- 
terfeit, the  substitute  had  not  one  atom  of 
what  is  essential  to  genuine  goodness.  It 
entirely  lacked  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  ;  and 
no  sooner  had  Jehovah  applied  the  touch- 
stone, than  in  grief  and  displeasure  he 
exclaimed,  "  How  is  the  gold  become  dim! 
how  is  the  most  fine  gold  changed  !"  And 
yet  that  gold  was  essential  —  nothing  could 


36  THE   HAPPY  HOME, 

compensate  for  it.  No  merit,  then  no  re- 
ward ;  no  righteousness,  no  heaven  And 
which  guarantied  a  glorious  immortality, 
man  had  lost  the  only  thing  which  entitled 
him  to  the  favor  of  God — the  only  thing 
It  was  then  that  his  case  was  undertaken 
by  a  Kinsman-Redeemer.  To  a  holy  hu- 
manity he  superadded  the  wisdom  and 
strength  of  Deity ;  and  divinely  authorized, 
he  took  the  field — the  surety  and  repre- 
sentative of  ruined  man.  In  his  heart  he 
hid  the  holy  law;  and  in  his  sublime  fulfil- 
ment of  it,  he  magnified  that  law  and  made 
it  honorable.  And  between  the  precious 
blood  he  shed,  as  an  expiation  for  sin,  and 
the  spotless  obedience  which  he  offered  on 
behalf  of  his  people,  he  wrought  out  a 
redundant  and  everlasting  righteousness. 
•It  was  tested,  and  was  found  to  be  without 
one  particle  of  alloy.  It  was  put  into  the 
balance,  but  the  sin  has  never  yet  been 
found  which  could  outweigh  the  merits  of 
Immanuel.  The  righteousness  of  Christ, 
as  the  sinner's  representative,  is  the  most 


THE    SHIP    OF   HEAVEN.  37 

golden  thing  in  all  the  gospel ;  and  it  is 
because  of  its  conveying  and  revealing  that 
righteousness,  that  the  gospel  is  the  power 
of  God,  and  the  wisdom  of  God  unto  sal- 
vation.* Be  counselled  to  buy  this  fine 
gold,  and  you  will  be  rich.t  Accept,  poor 
sinner,  this  righteousness  of  the  Saviour, 
and  you  will  be  justi6ed  freely  by  a  gra- 
cious God,  through  the  redemption  that  is 
in  Christ!  God  will  be  well  pleased  with 
you  because  you  are  w.ell  pleased  with  his 
beloved  Son  ;  and  will  count  you  righteous 
for  the  sake  of  that  righteousness  which  the 
Saviour  wrought  out,  and  which  the  gos- 
pel reveals,  and  which,  thankfully  receiv- 
ing, you  present  to  a  righteous  God  as  your 
plea  for  pardon,  and  your  passport  to  the 
kiugdorn  of  heaven. 

This    is    the   glory   of  the  gospel.     IT 

REVEALS    A    RIGHTEOUSNESS.        And   just 

as  the  man  whose  affairs  are  all  entangled 

would  be  thankful  for  money  sufficient  to 

discharge  his  debts,  and  set  him  on  a  foot- 

«  Rom.  i.  16,  17.    f  Rev.  iii.  18.    f  Rom.  iii.  20-26. 

4 


38  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

ing  with  his  honest  neighbors,  so  the  man 
who  knows  himself  a  debtor  to  Divine  jus- 
tice would  be  unspeakably  thankful  for 
that  possession,  whatever  it  may  be,  which 
would  cancel  all  his  liabilities,  and  place 
him  on  a  level  with  those  happy  beings 
who  have  never  sinned  at  all.  This  pos- 
session is  an  adequate  righteousness ;  and 
if  the  reader  be  anxious  to  enjoy  God's 
favor,  he  will  hail  the  gospel,  for  it  reveals 
that  righteousness. 

In  other  days,  when  men  were  in  want 
of  money,  they  sometimes  tried  to  manu- 
facture gold.  The  alchymist  gleaned  a 
portion  of  every  possible  substance  from 
ocean,  earth,  and  air,  and  put  them  all  into 
his  crucible,  and  then  subjected  the  medley 
to  the  most  tedious  and  expensive  processes. 
And  after  days  or  months  of  watching,  the 
poor  man  was  rewarded  by  seeing  a  few 
grains  of  shining  metal,  and  in  the  excite- 
ment of  near  discovery,  the  sweat  stood 
upon  his  brow,  and  he  urged  the  fire  afresh, 
and  muttered,  with  trembling  diligence,  the 


THE   SKIP   OF   HEAVEN. 


spell  which  was  to  evoke  the  mystery. 
And  thus,  day  by  day,  and  year  by  year, 
with  hungry  face  and  blinking  eyes,  he  ga- 
zed into  his  fining-pot,  and  stirred  the  molt- 
en rubbish,  till  one  morning  the  neighbors 
came  and  found  the  fire  extinct,  and  the 
ashes  blown  about,  and  the  old  alchymist 
stiff,  and  dead,  on  the  laboratory  floor  ;  and 
when  they  looked  into  the  broken  crucible, 
they  saw  that  after  all  his  pains,  the  base 
metals  remained  as  base  as  ever. 

But  though  men  no  longer  endeavor  to 
manufacture  gold,  they  still  try  to  manu- 
facture goodness.  The  merit  which  is  to 
open  heaven,  the  moral  excellence  which 
is  to  render  God  propitious,  the  fine  gold 
of  righteousness,  they  fancy  that  they  can 
themselves  elaborate.  As  he  passed  along, 
the  apostle  Paul  sometimes  saw  these  moral 
alchymists  at  work ;  and  as  he  observed 
them  so  earnest  for  salvation  —  as  he  saw 
them  casting  into  the  crucible  prayers,  and 
alms,  and  tears,  and  fastings,  and  self-tor- 
tures, he  was  moved  with  pity.  He  told 


40  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

them  that  depraved  humanity  was  material 
too  base  to  yield  the  precious  thing  they 
wanted.  He  told  them  that  they  were 
spending  their  strength  for  naught ;  and  that 
the  merit  which  they  were  so  eager  to  cre- 
ate exists  already.  He  told  them  that  if 
they  would  only  avail  themselves  of  it,  they 
might  obtain,  without  restriction,  the  right- 
eousness of  a  Divine  Redeemer.  "  I  pray 
that  you  may  be  saved  ;  I  sympathize  with 
your  anxiety  ;  I  love  your  earnest  zeal, 
while  I  deplore  your  deadly  error.  But 
ignorant  of  the  righteousness  which  God 
has  already  provided,  and  going  about  to 
establish  a  righteousness  of  your  own,  you 
are  missing  the  great  magazine  of  merit — 
the  great  repository  of  righteousness  —  Je- 
sus Christ.  You  need  not  scale  the  heav- 
ens to  bring  righteousness  down ;  you  need 
not  dive  into  the  deep  in  order  to  fetch  it  up ; 
you  need  not  watch,  and  toil,  and  do  pen- 
ance, in  order  to  create  it;  for  it  exists  al- 
ready there.  God  has  made  his  own  dear 
Son  the  sinner's  righteousness,  and  in  the 


THE   SHIP   OF   HEAVEN.  41 

gospel  offers  him  to  all.  The  gift  is  nigh 
thee.  It  is  at  thy  door ;  it  is  in  thy  hand. 
Receive  it,  and  be  righteous;  receive  it, 
and  rejoice."*  And  so,  dear  reader,  if  you 
are  anxious  for  peace  with  God,  accept 
God's  own  gift  —  the  peace-procuring  right- 
eousness. Present,  as  your  only  plea  with 
a  holy  God,  the  atonement  of  his  Son ;  de- 
spair of  bringing  merit  out  of  vileness,  or 
sanctity  out  of  sin.  With  Luther,  "  learn 
to  know  Christ  crucified  ;  learn  to  sing  a 
new  song.  Renouncing  your  own  work, 
cry  to  Him,  Lord,  thou  art  my  righteous- 
ness, and  I  am  thy  sin.  Thou  hast  taken 
on  thee  what  was  mine,  and  given  to  me 
what  was  thine  ;  what  thou  was  not,  thou 
becamest,  that  I  might  become  what  I  was 
not." 

But  among  the  other  precious  commodi- 
ties purchased  by  the  Friend  of  Sinners, 
and  floated  to  our  world  in  that  compre- 
hensive ark,  his  gospel,  we  must  notice  A 

PEACEFUL  CONSCIENCE  and  A  CONTENTED 
*  Rom.  x.  1-12 ;  1  Cor.  i.  30 ;  2  Cor.  v.  21. 

4* 


42  THE   HAPPY    HOME. 

MIND.  Should  this  be  read  by  any  one 
who  has  lately  committed  a  crime,  or  by 
one  who  has  newly  discovered  the  holiness 
of  God  and  the  plague  of  his  own  heart, 
that  reader  knows  the  horrors  of  a  troubled 
conscience.  And  no  man  can  make  it 
happy.  We  might  put  it  in  a  palace.  We 
might  promote  it  to  tread  ankle-deep  on 
obsequious  carpets,  or  embosom  it  in  balm 
and  down.  We  might  bid  Araby  breathe 
over  it,  and  Golconda  glitter  round  it.  We 
might  encircle  it  with  clouds  of  hovering 
satellites,  and  put  upon  its  head  the  wish- 
ing-cap  of  endless  wealth.  But  if  we  have 
not  taken  the  barb  from  its  memory,  the 
festered  wound  from  the  spirit — the  pale 
foreboding,  the  frequent  gloom,  the  startled 
slumber,  will  pronounce  these  splendors 
mockery,  and  all  this  luxury  a  glittering 
lie. 

And  even  where  there  is  not  this  sharp 
anguish,  there  is  in  the  worldling's  spirit  a 
secret  wretchedness,  and  a  prevailing  dis- 
content. He  longs  for  something,  he 


THE    SHIP    OF    HEAVEN.  43 

scarce  knows  what;  and  this  dim  craving 
degenerates  to  a  depraved  voracity.  He 
feeds  on  husks  and  ashes,  or  even  poison- 
ous fruits.  He  tries  to  feast  his  soul  with 
fame  and  glory,  or  satiates  it  with  sensual 
joys  and  voluptuous  revelries.  But  from 
the  visionary  banquet  he  wakens  up,  and 
still  his  soul  hath  appetite  ;  or  recovered 
from  the  drunken  orgy,  he  recognises  in 
his  besotted  self  a  fiend  imprisoned — his 
guilty  soul  the  demon,  and  his  embruted 
frame  the  dungeon.  And  be  the  diversion 
what  it  may,  nothing  will  make  a  godless 
spirit  truly  happy.  Get  an  unexpected  for- 
tune, and  rise  to  sudden  grandeur;  lounge 
away  your  mornings  in  sumptuous  club- 
rooms,  and  flutter  out  your  evenings  at 
balls,  and  plays,  and  operas ;  roam  through 
continental  vineyards  or  over  northern 
moors ;  dawdle  the  long  day  in  Brighton 
newsrooms,  or  trip  it  on  Ramsgate  pier ; 
gallop  over  Ascot,  or  yacht  it  round  the 
Needles  ;  and  from  each  famed  resort  and 
costly  recreation,  the  lover  of  pleasure  must 


44  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

still  bring  back  a  hollow  heart  and  a  hun- 
gry soul. 

But  tarry  where  you  are  —  continue  in 
your  present  toilsome  calling;  and  pray 
that  prayer,  "  There  be  many  that  say, 
Who  will  show  us  any  good ?  Lord,  lift 
thou  up  the  light  of  thy  countenance  upon 
us,  and  put  gladness  in  our  heart,  more 
than  when  corn  and  wine  increase."  Learn, 
that  for  Christ's  sake  God  is  reconciled  to 
you,  and  life  will  wear  another  aspect.  You 
will  be  like  the  primitive  believers,  after 
they  received  the  remission  of  their  sins. 
You  will  eat  your  meat  with  gladness, 
praising  God.  The  same  fir  table  is  still 
your  daily  board,  and  from  a  homely  trench- 
er you  still  despatch  your  frugal  meal. 
Work  is  still  wearing,  and  winters  are  still 
severe,  and  still  there  will  come  hard  times 
and  heavy  trials.  But  with  heavenly  en- 
tertainment at  each  repast,  and  a  divine 
assurance  deep  in  all  your  soul ;  in  cove- 
nant with  the  beasts  of  the  earth,  and  in 
league  with  the  stones  of  the  fieli,  you  will 


THE    SHIP    OF   HEAVEN. 


pass,  a  cheerful  pilgrim,  through  a  smiling 
universe,  and  enjoy  on  earth  your  first  of 
heaven. 

And  if  you  ask,  which  package  in  the 
freight,  which  passage  in  the  book,  con- 
tains this  priceless  blessing,  there  are  many 
which  only  need  to  be  opened  in  order  to 
obtain  it.  "  Come  now,  and  let  us  reason 
together,  saith  the  Lord :  Though  your 
sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as 
snow ;  though  they  be  red  like  crimson, 
they  shall  be  as  wool." — "  God  is  in  Christ 
reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  not  im- 
puting their  trespasses  unto  them  ;  and  hath 
committed  unto  us  the  word  of  reconcilia- 
tion. Now,  then,  we  are  embassadors  for 
Christ,  as  though  God  did  beseech  you  by 
us:  we  pray  you,  in  Christ's  stead,  be  ye 
reconciled  to  God.  For  he  hath  made  him 
to  be  sin  for  us,  who  knew  no  sin ;  that  we 
might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in 
him." — «  This  is  the  record,  that  God  hath 
given  to  us  eternal  life,  and  this  life  is  in 
his  Son.  He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life." 


16  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

"  There  is  no  condemnation  to  them  who 
are  in  Christ  Jesus."*  Here  is  the  am 
nesty,  and  you,  my  dear  reader,  are  invited 
to  accept  it.  So  far  as  you  are  concerned, 
nothing  lies  nearer  the  heart  of  Jehovah 
than  your  return  to  his  fatherly  bosom  ;  and 
for  this  very  purpose  he  has  sent  you  the 
conditions  of  peace.  These  conditions 
have  already  been  fulfilled  by  his  own  dear 
Son  as  the  sinner's  representative,  and  to 
that  red  handwriting  you  have  only  to  coun- 
tersign your  consenting  name.  And  no 
sooner  do  you  thus  fall  in  with  God's  way 
of  saving  sinners,  than  his  beaming  eye 
pronounces  over  you  the  benison  which  on 
earth  Jesus  so  rejoiced  to  utter,  "  Go  in 
peace :  thy  sins,  which  are  many,  be  for- 
given thee." 

Nor  must  we  forget  that  possession  as 
precious  as  it  is  unique,  THE  NEW  HEART. 
"  A  new  heart  also  will  I  give  you,  and  a 
new  spirit  will  I  put  within  you  ;  and  I  will 
take  away  the  stony  heart  out  of  your  flesh, 

•Is.i.18;  SCor.v.  19-21;  Uohnv.11,12;  Rom.viii.1 


THE    SHIP    OF    HEAVEN.  47 

and  I  will  give  you  a  heart  of  flesh.  And 
I  will  put  my  spirit  within  you,  and  will 
cause  you  to  walk  in  my  statutes,  and  ye 
shall  keep  my  judgments  and  do  them." 
Whenever  a  man  believes  the  gospel,  God 
gives  him  a  loving,  trustful,  and  obedient 
heart ;  and  what  was  formerly  irksome  or 
odious,  becomes  to  his  altered  views  and 
feelings  attractive  and  easy.  The  Lord  not 
only  delivers  him  from  the  slavery  of  sin, 
and  transfers  him  into  his  own  family,  but 
gives  him  the  cordial  feelings  and  affec- 
tionate instincts  of  a  son.  And  along  with 
this,  everything  is  changed.  The  great 
commandment,  "  Thou  shalt  love  the 
Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  soul,"  is  no 
longer  a  flagrant  extravagance  but  a  gra- 
cious privilege,  and  the  thankful  spirit  an- 
swers, "  O  Lord,  thou  art  the  strength  of 
my  heart,  and  my  portion  for  ever."  Prayer 
is  no  longer  an  infliction  but  an  opportu- 
nity, and  the  sanctuary,  from  a  prison  or 
lock-up,  is  transformed  into  a  happy  home- 
stead and  endeared  resort ;  while  the  sab- 


48  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

bath,  once  so  dull  or  so  dissipated,  smiles 
upon  him  in  hallowed  and  delightful  re- 
turns. His  relation  to  the  Saviour  gives  a 
new  look  to  the  holy  law  :  and,  receiving 
from  the  hand  of  a  pardoning  God,  those 
requirements  which  he  used  to  receive 
from  a  threatening  Judge,  the  duties  which 
frowned  with  prohibition,  and  coerced  by 
penalties,  become  propitious  and  inviting. 
The  prickly  precept — "  The  soul  that  sin- 
neth,  it  shall  die" — the  Saviour  has  depri- 
ved of  its  thorn,  and  along  with  Sharon's 
rose,  and  blending  their  fragrance  together, 
he  gives  it  to  each  disciple,  that  he  may 
wear  it  in  his  bosom.  And  the  harsh  and 
hispid  law  —  the  command,  which,  like  the 
loaf  still  latent  in  the  bearded  corn,  is  in- 
sipid and  repulsive  in  the  shape  of  dry  mor- 
ality—  he  has  relieved  from  its  choking 
awns  and  encumbering  chaff;  and,  sweet- 
ened with  beatitude,  it  tastes  like  sacra- 
mental bread,  while  he  himself  says  over  it, 
"  Eat,  O  friend ;  yea,  feast  abundantly,  O 
beloved."  And  as  it  was  to  his  elder 


THE    SHIP    OF    HEAVEN.  49 


Brother,  it  becomes  to  the  adopted  child 
of  God  like  meat  and  drink,  to  do  fta  will 
of  his  Father  who  is  in  heaven. 

But,  over  and  above  its  golden  treasures 
and  rich  commodities,  this  vessel  brings 
some  RARE  EXOTICS.  Perfect  only  in  that 
better  land,  there  is  a  skilful  Cultivator,* 
who  even  in  these  cold  climes  has  cher- 
ished and  carried  through  some  glorious 
specimens.  With  snowy  petals,  and  drench- 
ing all  around  in  contagious  sweetness, 
blooms  that  lily  of  our  valley,  Christian 
Love ;  and  beside  it,  with  ruby  blossom, 
courting  all  the  radiant  firmament,  holy  Joy 
may  be  recognised.  By  its  silken  stem 
and  subtle  branchlets,  hiding  its  florets  from 
blustry  weather  in  a  pavilion  of  its  own, 
Peace  may  be  identified ;  while  near  it, 
Long-suffering  strikes  its  bleeding  fibres 
deeper,  and  with  balm  requites  the  hand 
that  wounds  it.  As  if  from  one  source 
springing,  Gentleness  and  Kindness  twine 
together ;  while  Faith,  erect  and  heaven- 
Gal,  v.  22  ;  John  xv.  26. 
5 


50  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

pointing,  bears  them  each  aloft.  Scarce 
opening  its  modest  eye,  but  bewraying  its 
presence  in  the  scented  air,  Meekness  nes- 
tles in  the  mossy  turf;  and  Temperance 
reveals  in  its  healthy  hue  the  tonic  hidden 
in  its  root.  These  flowers  of  Paradise  are 
sent  to  grace  the  Christian  and  cheer  his 
friends  ;  and  it  matters  not  whether  they 
adorn  the  pent-up  attic  or  the  rural  man- 
sion—  the  spiritual  mind  is  their  true  con- 
servatory. Man's  first  home  was  a  gar- 
den, and  the  race  seems  to  inherit  the  love 
of  those  gentle  shapes  and  glorious  tints 
which  were  his  silent  comrades  in  Eden ; 
and  wandering  through  the  sultry  streets  on 
days  like  these,  it  moves  a  pensive  smile 
to  see  in  many  a  window  the  dusty  shrub 
or  the  empty  flower-pot  —  a  memento  of 
scenes  which  can  never  be  revisited,  and  a 
protest  for  rural  joys  which  must  not  be 
tasted  again.  But  those  exotics  which  we 
have  just  enumerated,  are  independent  of 
atmosphere  and  latitude ;  and  some  of  the 
most  splendid  specimens  have  been  cher- 


THE    SHIP    OF    HEAVEN.  51 

ished  in  workshops  and  cellars,  amid  the 
dust  of  factories,  the  smoke  of  cities,  and 
in  the  depths  of  airless  mines.  "  Love, 
joy,  peace,  long-suffering,  gentleness,  good 
ness,  faith,  meekness,  temperance," — these 
are  the  brightest  beauties  and  the  most  fra- 
grant ornaments  of  any  dwelling.  Pray 
that  the  Spirit  of  God  would  transfer  them 
from  the  Bible  to  your  character,  and  that 
he  would  tend  and  water  them  there.  For 
should  these  graces  flourish,  the  frost  upon 
the  fields,  and  the  snow-flakes  on  the  gale, 
will  never  touch  the  fadeless  summer  of 
your  soul. 

And,  to  notice  nothing  more,  we  must 
mention,  as  included  in  this  costly  consign- 
ment, THE  TITLE-DEEDS  TO  A  GREAT 

INHERITANCE.  Before  he  left  the  world, 
the  Lord  Jesus  said  to  his  disciples,  "In 
my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions. 
I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you."  And 
the  Bible  gives  us  some  hints,  that  we 
may  know  what  sort  of  mansion  it  is.  Sin 
and  sorrow  never  enter  it.  Its  inhabitant 


52  THE    HAPPST    HOME. 

never  says,  I  am  sick.  And  from  his  eyes 
God  has  wiped  all  tears.  No  tempting 
devil  and  no  corrupting  men  come  near  it; 
but  all  is  holy  and  all  is  pure.  Its  sun 
never  sets,  for  a  present  Saviour  is  its  con- 
stant light ;  and  its  blessedness  never  ebbs, 
for  God  himself  is  the  fountain  of  its  joy. 
And  there  the  redeemed  of  earth  have  for 
their  company  the  mighty  intellects  and 
loving  souls  in  glory.  And  all  this  the 
Saviour  has  purchased  for  his  people  ;  and 
all^  this,  happy  reader,  will  be  yours  if  you 
belong  to  Jesus.  Like  the  expiring  negro, 
when  a  friend  exclaimed,  "  Poor  Pompey !" 
and  he  answered,  "  Me  no  poor  any  more, 
me  King  Pompey  now,"  I  dare  say  that 
you  are  poor,  but  I  am  sure  that  you  are 
rich.  You  are  going  where  your  present 
rank  will  be  no  objection,  and  where  your 
earthly  privations  will  only  make  the  tran- 
sition more  ecstatic.  And,  oh,  my  friend! 
look  forward  and  look  up  !  I  wish  I  could 
add  to  your  present  comforts  ;  but  I  know 
that  if  you  had  it,  this  blessed  hope  would 


THE   SHIP   OF   HEAVEN.  53 

often  cheat  your  present  miseries.  One 
windy  afternoon  I  went  with  a  friend  into  a 
country  almshouse.  There  was  sitting  be- 
fore a  feeble  fire  a  very  aged  man  ;  and  the 
better  to  keep  from  his  bald  head  the  cold 
gusts,  he  wore  his  hat :  he  was  never  likely 
to  need  it  out  of  doors.  He  was  very  deaf, 
and  so  shaken  with  the  palsy,  that  one 
wooden  shoe  constantly  pattered  on  the 
brick  floor.  But,  deaf,  and  sick,  and 
helpless,  it  turned  out  that  he  was  happy. 
"What  are  you  doing,  Wisby?"  said  my 
friend.  "  Waiting,  sir."  "  And  for  what  ?" 
"For  the  appearing  of  my  Lord."  "And 
what  makes  you  wish  for  his  appearing?" 
"  Because,  sir,  I  expect  great  things  then. 
He  has  promised  a  crown  of  righteousness 
to  all  that  love  his  appearing."  And,  to 
see  whether  it  was  a  right  foundation  on 
which  he  rested  that  glorious  hope,  we 
asked  old  Wisby  what  it  was.  By  degrees 
he  got  on  his  spectacles,  and  opening  the 
great  Bible  beside  him,  pointed  to  that  text, 
"  Therefore,  being  justified  by  faith,  we 
5* 


54  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

have  peace  with  God  through  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ:  by  whom  also  we  have  ac- 
cess by  faith  into  this  grace  wherein  we 
stand,  and  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of 
God.''*  And,  dear  reader,  the  God  of 
grace  puts  that  blessedness  within  your 
offer.  Embrace  it,  and  you  will  be  the 
happy  man  "  to  whom  death  is  welcome, 
while  life  is  sweet." 

"  When  I  can  read  my  title  cleat 

To  mansions  in  the  skies, 
I  bid  farewell  to  every  fear, 
And  wipe  nvr  weeping  eyes." 

And  now,  kind  reader,  have  you  under- 
stood these  things  ?  Over  a  few  sentences 
of  this  address,  I  have  cast  a  thin  veil  of 
metaphor;  —  but  I  shall  be  very  s.orry  if  it 
has  obscured  my  meaning ;  for  even  in 
these  humble  pages,  there  are  truths  which, 
if  you  believe  and  embrace,  you  need  envy 
no  man's  millions,  and  many  a  wealthy 
worldling  is  poor  compared  with  you. 

The  thing  which  I  have  been  most 
anxious  to  show,  is  the  kind  tone  in  which 

*  Rom.  v.  1,  2. 


THE    SHIP   OF   HEAVEN".  55 

the  Saviour  speaks  to  you,  and  the  boons 
which,  in  the  Bible,  he  transmits  to  you, 
Judging  by  some  sermons  and  tracts,  you 
might  fancy  that  the  Bible  is  a  severe  and 
angry  book — or,  at  tire  very  best,  that  it  is  a 
book  of  good  advices.  This  is  a  mistake. 
The  Bible  has  many  a  solemn  passage,  and 
it  abounds  in  good  advices;  but  you  miss 
the  very  best  of  it  if  you  think  that  this  is 
all.  I  shall  suppose  that  a  young  man  has 
left  his  home  in  Scotland  or  the  north  of 
England.  He  comes  to  this  great  London, 
and  in  a  little  while  falls  in  with  its  worst 
ways.  In  the  theatre,  and  the  tea-garden, 
and  the  tavern  parlor,  he  spends  all  his 
money,  and  gets  deep  in  debt ;  and  then 
he  turns  ill,  and  is  taken  to  the  hospital ; 
and  when  there,  he  begins  to  bethink  him 
of  his  foolishness :  "  I  wish  I  once  were 
well  again.  I  wish  I  once  were  home 
again.  But  'tis  no  use  wishing.  I  know 
that  my  father's  door  is  shut :  they  would 
not  take  rne  in ;  and  if  once  I  were 
able  to  creep  about,  they  would  have  me 


66  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

up  for  debt.  It  would  just  oe  out  of  the 
hospital  into  the  jail."  And,  while  be- 
moaning his  misery,  a  letter  comes  from  his 
father,  telling  him  that  he  has  heard  of  his 
wretched  plight,  and  reminding  him  of  the 
past,  and  all  he  had  done  for  his  wayward 
child  ;  and,  glancing  his  eye  over  it,  the  sick 
youth  crumples  it  up  and  crams  it  away  un- 
der his  pillow.  And  by-and-by  a  comrade 
comes  in,  and  among  other  things  the  invalid 
tells  him,  "  And  here  is  a  letter  of  good 
advice  just  come  from  my  father  ;"  and  that 
other  runs  his  eye  over  it:  "  Good  advice, 
did  you  say?  I  think  you  should  rather 
have  said  good  news.  Don't  you  see,  he 
makes  you  welcome  home  again  ?  and  in 
order  that  you  may  settle  your  accounts, 
and  return  in  peace  and  comfort,  he  has 
appended  this  draft  for  twenty  pounds." 
Most  people  read  the  Bible  carelessly,  or 
with  a  guilty  conscience  for  the  interpreter, 
and  they  notice  in  it  nothing  but  reproofs 
and  good  advice.  They  miss  the  main 
thing  there.  The  gospel  is  good  news. 


THE    SHIP   OF   HEAVEN.  57 

It  tells  us  that  God  is  love,  and  announces 
to  every  reader  that  the  door  of  the  Father's 
house  is  open,  and  that  this  very  night  he 
may  fiud  a  blessed  home  in  the  bosom  of 
his  God.  And  as  we  have  all  incurred  a 
debt  to  Divine  justice,  which,  throughout 
eternity,  we  could  never  pay- — and  as  it 
needs  a  righteousness  to  recommend  us  to 
the  favor  of  a  holy  God  —  in  every  Bible 
there  is  enclosed  a  draft  on  the  Saviour's 
merit,  to  which  the  sinner  has  only  to  sign 
his  believing  name,  and  the  great  salvation 
is  his  own.  By  exhibiting  the  cross  of 
Christ — by  directing  to  that  precious  blood 
which  cleanses  from  all  sin  —  and  by  pre- 
senting a  perfect  righteousness  to  every 
awakened  conscience  —  the  Bible  comes  a 
benefactor  and  a  friend  in  need.  And 
when  rightly  understood,  the  angelic  an- 
them— "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest;  on 
earth  peace  ;  good-will  toward  man"  —  is 
the  cheerful  but  stately  tune  to  which  the 
gospel  goes,  and  to  which  in  heaven  itself 
they  sing  it. 


58  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

And,  reader,  try  to  catch  that  tune.  Pray 
that  God  would  this  very  night,  by  his  own 
Spirit,  teach  it  to  you.  Fear  not  to  believe 
too  soon,  nor  to  rejoice  in  Christ  Jesus  too 
much.  Let  the  love  of  God  your  Saviour 
tide  into  all  your  soul,  and,  as  it  makes 
your  feelings  happy,  so  will  it  make  your 
dispositions  new.  Peace  and  joy  will  keep 
you  from  some  sins,  gratitude  and  loyalty 
will  preserve  you  from  the  rest.  No  cheer- 
ful glass  will  be  needed  to  raise  your  spir- 
its then  ;  for  a  soul  exulting  in  the  great 
salvation  forgets  its  poverty,  and  remem- 
bers its  misery  no  more.  No  sinful  lust 
nor  forbidden  joy  will  enthral  you  then  ;  for 
you  will  have  discovered  deeper  and  purer 
pleasures.  And  there  will  be  no  fear  of 
your  growling  and  cursing  through  your 
daily  task,  or  filling  with  consternation  your 
cowering  family  ;  for  the  peace  of  God  will 
make  you  pacific,  and  scattering  on  every 
side  kind  looks  and  friendly  feelings,  you 
will  come  and  go  a  sunshine  in  the  shop,  a 
6relight  in  the  home. 


THE   SHIP   OF   HEAVEN.  59 

No :  do  not  sit  so  sullenly.  I  am  a 
stranger,  but  it  is  the  truth  of  God  I  tell. 
In  all  your  life  you  may  never  have  got  a 
costly  gift ;  but  here,  at  last,  is  one.  It  is 
the  gift  of  God,  and  therefore  it  is  a  gift 
unspeakable;  but,  accepted  as  cordially  as 
it  is  graciously  offered,  it  will  make  you 
blessed  now,  and  rich  for  all  eternity.  Oh, 
my  dear  friend,  do  not  eye  it  so  coldly ; 
suffer  it  not  so  tamely  to  pass  away.  This 
night  has  brought  you  good  news.  It  has 
tojd  you  of  the  Saviour's  costly  purchase 
and  wondrous  present.  Let  it  also  bring 
good  news  to  heaven  ;  let  it  tell  that  the 
love  of  God  has  broken  your  heart,  and 
made  you  sorry  and  ashamed  for  all  your 
sins  ;  let  it  tell  that  with  tears  of  thankful- 
ness you  have  surveyed  the  "  unsearchable 
riches  of  Christ,"  and  have  given  yourself 
to  Him  who  once  gave  himself  for  you  ;  let 
it  tell  that  your  history  has  taken  a  new 
turn,  and  that,  breaking  off  from  your  worth- 
less companions  and  evil  ways,  you  have 
begun  in  lowliness  and  love  to  follow  Jesus 


A  BUNCH  IN  THE  HAND,  AND  MORE 
ON  THE  BUSH. 

NOT  far  from  this  London  there  dwelt  an 
old  couple.  In  early  life  they  had  been 
poor;  but  the  husband  became  a  Christian, 
and  God  blessed  their  industry,  and  they 
were  living  in  a  comfortable  retirement, 
when  one  day  a  stranger  called  on  them  to 
ask  their  subscription  to  a  charity.  The 
old  lady  had  not  so  much  grace  as  her  hus- 
band, and  still  hankered  after  some  of  the 
sabbath  earnings  and  easy  shillings  which 
Thomas  had  forfeited  from  regard  to  the 
law  of  God.  And  so  when  the  visiter  asked 
their  contribution,  she  interposed,  and  said, 
"  Why,  sir,  we  have  lost  a  deal  by  religion 
since  we  first  began  ;  my  husband  knows 
that  very  well.  Have  we  not,  Thomas?" 
And  after  a  solemn  pause  Thomas  an- 


A   BUNCH   IN   THE   HAND.  61 

swered  :  "  Yes,  Mary,  we  have.  I  have  lost 
a  deal  by  my  religion.  Before  I  had  got  reli- 
gion, Mary,  I  had  got  a  water-pail,  in  which 
1  used  to  carry  water,  and  that,  you  know,  I 
have  lost  many  years  ago ;  and  then  I  had 
an  old  slouched  hat,  a  tattered  coat,  and 
mended  shoes  and  stockings  ;  but  I  have 
lost  them  also  long  ago.  And,  Mary,  you 
know  that,  poor  as  I  was,  I  had  a  habit  of 
getting  drunk  and  quarreling  with  you  ;  and 
that,  you  know,  I  have  lost.  And  then  I 
had  a  burdened  conscience  and  a  wicked 
heart,  and  ten  thousand  guilty  fears ;  but 
all  are  lost,  completely  lost,  and  like  a  mill- 
stone, cast  into  the  deepest  sea.  And, 
Mary,  you  have  been  a  loser  too,  though 
not  so  great  a  loser  as  myself.  Before  we 
got  religion,  Mary,  you  had  got  a  washing- 
tray,  in  which  you  washed  for  hire  ;  but 
since  we  got  religion,  you  have  lost  your 
washing-tray.  And  you  had  a  gown  and  a 
bonnet  much  the  worse  for  wear,  though 
they  were  all  you  had  to  wear ;  but  you 
have  lost  them  long  ago.  And  you  had 
G 


THE    HAPPY    HOME. 


many  an  aching  heart  concerning  me  at 
times  ;  but  these  you  happily  have  lost. 
And  I  could  even  wish  that  you  had  lost 
as  much  as  I  have  lost  ;  for  what  we  lose 
by  our  religion  will  be  our  everlasting  gain." 

There  are  instances  where  religion  has 
required  a  sacrifice  ;  but  so  far  as  our  own 
observation  goes,  it  has  blessed  its  posses- 
sors, not  only  by  what  it  imparted,  but  also 
by  what  it  took  away.  Their  chief  losses 
may  be  comprised  in  the  following  items  :  — 

A  bad  character  ; 

A  guilty  conscience  ; 

A  troublesome  temper  ; 

Sundry  evil  habits, 

And  all  their  wicked  companions. 

And  then,  on  the  other  side,  over  and 
above  all  the  higher  benefits  which  the  gos- 
pel bestows,  and  which,  in  our  last  paper, 
we  tried  to  enumerate,  its  advent  into  the 
poor  man's  home  is  usually  signalized  by 
some  immediate  and  obvious  blessings.  We 
allow  that  they  are  secondary,  but  they  are 
not  insignificant.  Let  us  glance  at  some 


A  BUNCH   IN    THE   HAND.  63 

of  them.  Like  the  bunch  which  the  spies 
fetched  from  Eshcol,  they  may  give  some 
notion  of  the  goodly  land  ;  but  they  are 
only  a  sample,  and  the  true  wisdom  is  to 
go  up  and  possess  the  region  itself,  and  then 
you  will  gather  the  grapes  where  they  grow, 
and  when  one  cluster  is  finished,  you  will 
find  still  better  on  the  tree. 

1.  Religion  is  FORETHOUGHT  and  FRU- 
GALITY. The  disciple  of  Jesus  is  well 
off — his  fortune  is  made,  and  he  does  not 
need  to  set  his  heart  on  filthy  lucre.  But 
then  he  is  high-hearted  —  he  is  of  his  Mas- 
ter's mind,  "  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than 
to  receive."  He  would  rather  be  an  almo- 
ner than  a  pensioner ;  and  he  is  anxious 
to  lay  a  good  foundation  for  age  as  well  as 
for  infirmity.  And  he  "  provides  for  his 
own  house."  He  would  fain  contribute  to 
the  commonwealth  one  independent  and 
self-sustaining  family.  And  the  foresight 
and  self-denial  which  he  has  learned  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus,  put  these  achievements  in 
his  power.  You  may  see  the  thing  in  liv- 


64  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 


ing  specimens.  Take,  for  instance,  these 
shopmates,  Dick  Raspiron  and  Tom  Tin- 
kleton.  Perhaps  you  know  them ;  at  all 
events,  in  their  employment  as  whitesmiths 
they  have  made  some  noise  in  the  world. 
Tom  once  of  a  sudden  took  it  into  his  head 
to  marry  ;  and  as  he  had  a  few  shillings  to 
pay  the  fees,  he  made  it  out;  but  before 
the  honeymoon  was  ended,  the  bride  had 
to  pawn  her  wedding-gown  to  buy  next 
Sunday's  dinner.  And  Dick  also  fell  in 
love  ;  but  his  sweetheart  and  himself  agreed 
that  they  would  wait  till  they  had  made  up 
twenty  pounds  between  them.  Last  Satur- 
day Tom  did  not  take  home  his  wages  till 
after  midnight,  and  then  he  did  not  take 
the  whole  ;  and  next  morning  his  wife  went 
out  and  bought  some  flabby  meat  and  with- 
ered greens,  and  paid  the  Sunday  trader 
ten  per  cent,  additional ;  but  that  was  bet 
ter  management  than  the  time  before,  for 
then  he  brought  nothing  home  at  all ;  and 
in  order  to  procure  a  steak,  they  had  first 
to  sell  their  frying-pan.  But  now  that  at 


A   BUNCH    IN   THE    HAND.  65 

last  he  has  married  his  notable  little  wife, 
Dick  hies  home  as  fast  as  he  can  on  Satur- 
day evening,  sure  that  the  earnings  of  last 
week  have  made  the  marketings  of  this  one, 
and  that  he  will  find  the  room  so  tidy  and 
the  tea-things  set  out,  and  that  afterward 
they  will  have  a  turn  in  the  park,  or,  should 
it  chance  to  rain,  an  hour  for  reading  some 
useful  book.  At  an  immemorial  period  his 
shoprnate  "  fell  behind  ;"  that  is,  in  a  cer- 
tain race,  the  consumer  of  pies  and  porter 
outran  the  producer  of  water-pails  and  me- 
tallic chimney-pots  ;  and  the  shillings  which 
he  got  from  his  employer  could  not  keep 
up  with  the  half-crowns  which  he  spent  on 
himself.  And  ever  since  the  luckless  day 
when  the  Spender  distanced  the  Winner, 
it  has  been  a  perpetual  scramble.  For  want 
of  ready  cash  —  and  credit  they  never 
had  —  his  hungry  household  subsists  on  ac- 
cidental and  precarious  meals  ;  and  bought 
in  paltry  shops,  and  in  the  smallest  quan- 
tities, their  greatest  bargain  is  a  stinted  pen- 
nyworth. Richard  read  in  his  Bible,  "  Owe 
6* 


66  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

no  man  anything;"  and,  in  order  to  make 
sure,  he  thought  it  best  to  have  always 
something  to  spare.  At  the  very  outset  he 
bade  the  Winner  "  march,"  while  he  held 
the  Spender  by  the  heel,  and  would  not  let 
him  stir  a  single  step  till  the  other  was  far 
ahead.  And  now  he  begins  to  find  the  ad- 
vantage of  this  early  self-denial.  From 
having  a  little  money  at  command,  he  has 
never  on  an  emergency  required  to  borrow 
at  a  ruinous  usury,  and  he  has  been  able 
to  pick  up  at  a  trifling  cost  a  clock  and  a 
bookcase,  and  a  chest  of  drawers,  when 
they  happened  to  be  going  cheap.  And  he 
has  discovered  that  sovereigns  are,  in  their 
habits,  somewhat  gregarious ;  if,  like  rats, 
they  run  away  from  a  tottering  house,  like 
storks  and  starlings  they  are  ready  to  come 
and  colonize  wherever  one  of  their  species 
reports  a  kind  reception.  And  accordingly, 
with  little  exertion,  without  pinching  or 
scraping,  or  any  shabby  expedients,  he  finds 
the  little  store  quietly  increasing.  And  now 
it  is  whispered  in  the  street,  that  he  either 


A   BUNCH   IN   THE    HAND.  07 

means  to  lease  or  buy  the  house  in  which 
he  has  been  heretofore  a  lodger;  while  du- 
ring the  year  his  neighbor  has  effected  three 
removals.  And  curious  observers  have  no- 
ted that  each  of  these  removals  is  less  ex- 
pensive than  its  predecessor  ;  and  it  is  likely 
that  the  next  may  cost  nothing,  as  at  the 
present  rate  they  will  then  be  able  to  carry 
on  their  backs  all  their  remaining  goods  and 
chattels. 

In  providing  for  one's  own  house,  per- 
haps the  best  plan  is  mutual  insurance.  In 
many  provident  societies  the  premiums 
have  been  calculated  too  low;  but  in  some 
recently  established,  such  as  the  "  Christian 
Mutual  Provident  Society,"  a  scale  of  pay- 
ments has  been  adopted,  which  effectually 
secures  against  all  risk.  I  shall  suppose 
that  the  reader  is  a  healthy  man,  and  twen- 
ty-five years  of  age.  Would  he  like  to  se- 
cure ten  shillings  a  week,  during  every  term 
of  sickness,  for  the  next  forty  years?  He 
may  secure  it  by  paying  1,9.  4=^d.  a  month, 
or  a  halfpenny  every  day.  Or  would  he 


THE   HAPPY   HOME. 


like  to  retire  from  hard  work  at  the  end  of 
these  forty  years?  By  paying  2s.  3d. 
monthly,  or  less  than  a  penny  daily,  he  may 
buy  against  that  period  a  pension  of  65. 
weekly.  Or  would  he  prefer  leaving  to  his 
survivors,  at  whatever  time  it  may  please 
God  to  call  him  away,  a  sum  of  s-olid  mo- 
ney? For  such  a  purpose  he  may  secure 
100/.  by  paying  3s.  5d.  a  month,  or  21.  a 
year.  Or,  if  he  dislikes  insurance,  he  may 
try  the  savings'  bank,  and  there  the  daily  pen- 
ny would  mount  up  to  50/.  in  thirty  years. 

But  how  is  a  working  man  to  manage 
this?  How  is  he  to  spare  the  daily  penny 
from  his  scanty  earnings  ?  I  fear  some  can 
not ;  but  I  know  that  many  can.  Do  you 
smoke,  or  snuff,  or  chew  tobacco?  Then 
please  to  count  how  much  this  costs  you  in 
a  week,  and  how  much  in  the  fifty-two 
weeks  which  make  a  year.  And  how  much 
do  you  pay  for  stimulating  liquor  ?  A  friend 
reminds  me  that  a  moderate  pint  of  beer 
comes  to  31.  per  annum,  or  30Z.  in  ten  years. 
And  how  do  you  dispose  of  your  loose  half- 


A   BUNCH    IN    THE    HAND.  69 


pence  ?  And  how  much  do  you  spend  in 
Sunday  excursions,  and  fairs,  and  treats,  and 
merry-makings  ?  Not  very  much  on  any 
one  occasion,  but  enough  from  time  to  time 
to  make  at  last  a  fortune.  For  it  is  not  by 
surprising  windfalls,  but  by  systematic  sa- 
vings— by  the  resolute  repetition  of  Jane 
Taylor's  golden  maxim,  "  I  can  do  without 
it," — that  men  have  made  the  most  solid  for- 
tunes, the  fullest  of  satisfaction  to  the 
founder,  and  the  most  enduring.  And 
were  you  only  commencing  now  to  save  up 
the  coppers  which  you  have  hitherto  squan- 
dered at  the  pastrycook's  or  the  fruiterer's 
stall,  and  the  sixpences  which  you  would 
have  melted  in  beer  or  burned  in  tobacco, 
they  will  soon  swell  up  to  a  pound ;  and  by 
perseverance  and  the  blessing  of  God,  that 
pound  may  grow  to  a  competency.* 

*  We  would  cordially  recommend  to  our  readers  on 
this  and  kindred  subjects,  Chambers'  Penny  Tract,  No. 
170,  "  Hints  to  Workmen."  After  the  above  paragraphs 
were  written,  a  friend  in  the  west  of  England  was  kind 
enough  to  show  us  over  his  factory.  It  abounded  ir? 
contrivances  and  processes  which  we  had  never  seen 
before;  but  the  sight  which  interested  us  beyond  alj 


70  THE   HAPPY  HOME. 

2.  Religion  insures  SOBRIETY.  Is  it 
not  fearful  that  Britain  spends  on  intoxi- 
cating liquors  fifty  millions  every  year  ? 
We  often  complain  of  our  high  taxation, 
and  sometimes  grow  nervous  at  the  national 
debt.  But  here  is  a  tax  for  which  we  can- 
not blame  our  rulers;  a  tax  self-imposed 
and  self-levied  ;  a  tax  for  which  we  can  only 
blame  ourselves  ;  a  tax  which  would  pay  the 
interest  of  our  national  debt  twice  over ; 
and  a  tax  as  large  as  the  entire  revenue  of 
these  United  Kingdoms.  We  thought  it  a 
great  sum  to  pay  in  order  to  give  the  slave 
his  freedom  ;  we  thought  the  twenty  mil- 
lions given  to  the  West  India  proprietors 

these  was  a  picture-gallery  of  industrious  veterans.  In 
his  counting-room  the  warm-hearted  proprietor  had  sus- 
pended, large  as  life,  the  portraits  of  five  faithful  ser- 
vants, who  had  each  spent  about  half  a  century  in  these 
works.  I  need  not  say  that  they  had  been  all  sotier 
men.  It  was  a  rule  of  the  establishment,  that  no  one 
employed  at  it  should  ever  enter  a  public-house.  But 
most  of  these  venerable  worthies  had  been  pious  men ; 
and,  pointing  to  one  of  the  likenesses,  my  friend  men- 
tioned, "  That  old  man  was  worth  fifteen  hundred 
pounds  when  he  died."  He  was  a  common  worker  with 
ordinary  wages ;  but  he  realized  enough  to  provide  a  com 
fortable  independence  for  two  nieces  who  survive  him. 


A   BUNCH    IN   THE   HAND.  71 

a  mighty  sacrifice  ;  and  certainly  it  was  the 
noblest  tribute  any  nation  ever  paid  to  the 
cause  of  philanthropy :  but,  large  as  it  looks, 
half  a  year  of  national  abstinence  would 
have  paid  it  all.  Some  grudge  the  eight 
millions  which  Ireland  lately  got,  seeing  it 
failed  to  set  our  neighbors  on  their  feet;  — 
but  it  was  eight  millions  given  to  save  a 
famishing  people ;  and  large  as  the  grant  to 
Ireland  sounds,  two  months  of  national  ab- 
stinence would  have  paid  the  whole  of  it. 
But,  tremendous  as  are  the  fifty  millions 
which,  as  a  people,  we  yearly  ingulf  in 
strong  drink,  the  thought  which  afflicts  and 
appals  us  is  that  this  terrible  impost  is 
mainly  a  tax  on  the  working  man.  The 
lamentation  is  that  many  an  industrious  man 
will  spend  in  liquor  as  much  money  as,  had 
he  saved  it,  would  this  year  have  furnished 
a  room,  and  next  year  would  have  bought 
a  beautiful  library;  —  as  much  money  as 
would  secure  a  splendid  education  for 
every  child,  or  in  the  course  of  a  few  years 
would  have  made  him  a  landlord  instead 


72  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

of  a  tenant.  Why,  my  friends,  it  would 
set  our  blood  a-boiling  if  we  beard  tbat  the 
Turkish  sultan  taxed  his  subjects  in  the 
style  that  our  British  workmen  tax  them- 
selves. It  would  bring  the  days  of  Wat 
Tyler  back  again  —  nay,  it  would  create 
another  Hampden,  and  conjure  up  a  second 
Cromwell  —  did  the  exchequer  try  to  raise 
the  impost  which  our  publicans  levy,  and 
our  laborers  and  artisans  cheerfully  pay. 
But  is  it  not  a  fearful  infatuation?  Is  it 
not  our  national  madness  to  spend  so  much 
wealth  in  shattering  our  nerves,  and  ex- 
ploding our  characters,  and  ruining  our 
souls  ?  Many  workmen,  I  rejoice  to  know, 
have  been  reclaimed  by  teetotalism,  and 
many  have  been  preserved  by  timely  reli- 
gion. In  whatever  way  a  man  is  saved 
from  that  horrible  vice,  which  is  at  once 
the  destruction  of  the  body  and  the  damna- 
tion of  the  soul,  "  therein  I  do  rejoice,  and 
will  rejoice."  Only  you  can  not  be  a 
Christian  without  being  also  a  sober  man  ; 
and  the  more  of  God's  grace  you  get,  the 


A    BUNCH    IN    THE    HAND.  73 

easier  will  you  find  it  to  vanquish  this  most 
terrible  of  the  working  man's  temptations. 

3.  Religion  creates  HONESTY,  CIVILITY, 
PUNCTUALITY,  INDUSTRY,  and  those  other 
qualities  which  secure  for  the  working  man 
popularity  and  promotion.  And,  whatever 
theorists  may  propound  to  the  contrary, 
this  is  the  way  in  which  God  himself  has 
arranged  society.  The  steady  and  sober  are 
to  rise  and  be  respected,  while  the  disso- 
lute and  disorderly  must  sink  and  disappear. 
And  though  there  is  in  many  quarters  a 
prejudice  against  piety  —  though  some  in- 
fidel and  irreligious  employers  prefer  work- 
men with  easy  principles  and  pliant  con- 
sciences—  no  business  can  long  prosper 
without  probity,  and  no  employer  can  be- 
come permanently  rich  with  ruffians  or 
rogues  for  his  servants.  Hence,  in  all  ex- 
tensive and  protracted  undertakings,  prin- 
ciple will  undoubtedly  win  for  itself  an 
eventual  preference  ;  aud  the  workman  who 
understands  his  trade  and  keeps  his  char- 
acter, may  expect  to  retain  his  place.  The 
7 


THE   HAPPY   HOME. 


kmg  of  Babylon  had  no  liking  for  Daniel's 
religion  ;  but  then,  Daniel  was  the  only 
man  who  could  manage  the  hundred  prov- 
inces. And  the  king  of  Egypt  would  have 
preferred  Joseph's  finance  and  Joseph's 
forethought  without  Joseph's  piety;  but,  as 
he  could  not  get  the  one  without  the  other, 
he  put  up  with  the  Hebrew's  faith  for  the 
sake  of  the  statesman's  policy.  And  in  the 
same  way,  if  you  carry  Bible  rules  into 
your  conduct,  the  Lord  himself  will  under- 
take your  case,  and  people  will  find  out 
that  it  is  good  to  have  the  like  of  you 
around  them.  If  you  will  not  work  on 
Sunday,  neither  will  you  be  tipsy  or  a-miss- 
ing  on  Monday.  If  you  won't  tell  a  false- 
hood for  your  employer,  neither  will  you 
waste  his  materials  nor  pilfer  his  property. 
And  if  you  are  not  a  sycophant  in  the 
slackest  times,  you  will  not  be  saucy  in  the 
busiest  ;  but,  seeking  first  to  please  your 
Master  in  heaven,  you  will  find  yourself 
rewarded  with  the  good  will  and  confidence 
of  your  snperiors  on  earth. 


A   BUNCH   IN   THE   HAND.  75 

Richard  Williams  attended  the  Horshay 
iron  works,  in  Shropshire.  From  the  time 
that  he  found  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins  at 
the  foot  of  the  cross,  he  became  a  delight- 
ful neighbor  and  a  most  diligent  workman. 
He  was  a  methodist,  and  his  master  a  qua- 
Ker;  and  seeing  Richard's  conscientious- 
ness, Mr.  Reynolds  promoted  him  to  be 
one  of  his  superintendents  —  an  office  which 
he  held  with  growing  honor  all  his  life. 
One  secret  of  Richard's  promotion,  and 
one  reason  why  whatsoever  he  did  pros- 
pered well,  was  his  prayerfulness.  God 
was  his  heavenly  Father,  and  therefore  he 
besought  his  blessing  on  his  common  toils  ; 
and  I  think  you  will  be  interested  to  read 
the  two  following  letters  to  a  friend  : — 

"  I  am  much  better  in  health  to-day,  but 
am  in  some  difficulty  as  to  our  works.  We 
are  *  setting  on'  the  other  furnace,  and  it 
goes  off  very  stubbornly.  It  requires  a 
deal  of  care  and  hard  work  to  get  it  right : 
and  will  require  much  more,  unless  a  speedy 
turn  takes  place  in  our  favor.  Continue, 


76  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

therefore,  to  pray  for  us.  I  know  your 
prayers  will  do  more  than  all  we  can  do 
with  our  strong  bars  and  great  hammers. 
Do  not,  therefore,  forget  us  at  the  throne 
of  the  heavenly  grace." 

Again : — 

"  We  are  engaged  in  difficult  work,  and 
are  desirous  of  getting  it  over  before  sab- 
bath. I  pray  the  Lord  that  we  may  suc- 
ceed. The  expenses  of  the  works  to  Mr 
Reynolds  are  at  present  very  great,  and  the 
profits  none.  I  am  employed  all  night  and 
a  part  of  the  day ;  but  I  heartily  thank  God 
for  his  kind  care  over  me,  and  hope  he  will 
preserve  us  all.  Very  earnestly  do  I  wish 
that  we  may  get  it  done,  that  we  all  may 
have  the  sabbath  free  from  labor  for  the 
purposes  of  religion." 

And  his  love  of  the  sabbath  and  his  per- 
sonal consistency  were  at  last  rewarded,  by 
seeing  every  furnace  stopped  on  the  first 
day  of  the  week.  On  a  subject  so  near  his 
heart,  he  ventured  a  respectful  representa- 
tion to  the  proprietor — a  representation 


A    BUNCH    IN    THE    HAND.  77 


which  derived  such  weight  from  Richard's 
worth  and  modesty,  that,  notwithstanding 
Jie  pecuniary  hazard,  an  experiment  was 
permitted:  it  proved  successful;  and  these 
sabbatic  furnaces  are  a  noble  monument  to 
a  conscientious  working  man. 

The  truth  is,  that  God's  blessing  attends 
his  people  in  their  common  calling.  If 
they  commit  their  way  to  him,  he  bring! 
it  to  pass.  He  opens  doors.  He  finds 
for  them  friends  and  favor.  He  smooths 
down  difficulties,  and  gives  their  earnings 
reproductive  value.  You  have  likely  heard 
of  Thomas  Mann,  the  London  waterman. 
Besides  large  sums  given  in  his  life  to  poor 
acquaintances,  he  left  to  different  societies 
nearly  two  thousand  pounds.  And  how 
did  he  make  it  ?  God  gave  it  to  him. 
God  gave  him  great  faith  in  his  own  word 
and  promises  —  a  devout  and  God-fearing 
mind ;  and  these  developed  in  politeness 
and  honesty,  punctuality  and  diligence. 
People  who  once  used  his  boat  were  so 
taken  with  its  owner,  that  if  they  could  get 
7* 


78  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

him  again,  they  would  hail  no  other ;  and 
having  won  a  friend,  he  was  so  attentive 
and  exact  that  he  never  lost  him  again  ; 
and  though  he  never  plied  on  the  Sabbath, 
and  never  pocketed  a  shilling  beyond  the 
proper  fare,  and  was  always  giving  money 
away,  it  seemed  as  if  he  could  not  grow 
poor.  Always  sober,  always  cheerful,  and 
usually  the  first  on  the  water,  the  Lord 
smiled  on  his  pious  industry;  and,  amid  all 
his  prosperity,  the  Lord  kept  him  humble 
and  generous,  to  show  us  that  if  a  man  has 
already  got  heaven  in  his  heart,  a  handful 
of  money  will  not  make  him  a  miser. 

4.  Religion  is  REFINEMENT.  It  expands 
the  mind  of  its  possessor,  and  purifies  his 
taste.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  confound 
riches  and  refinement,  just  as  it  is  a  great 
mistake  to  fancy  that  because  a  man  is  poor, 
he  must  be  coarse  and  vulgar.  Lord  Jef- 
feries,  though  seated  on  the  highest  tribunal 
in  the  realm,  while  pouring  forth  his  brutal 
ribaldry,  was  a  vulgar  man ;  and  a  very 
vulgar  man  was  Chancellor  Thurlow,  sport- 


A   BUNCH   IN   THE   HAND.  79 

ing  oaths  and  obscenity  at  the  table  of  the 
prince  of  Wales.  But  there  was  no  vul- 
garity about  James  Ferguson,  though  herd- 
ing sheep,  while  his  eye  watched  Arcturus 
and  the  Pleiades,  and  his  wistful  spirit 
wandered  through  immensity;  and,  though 
seated  at  a  stocking-loom,  there  was  no 
vulgarity  in  the  youth  who  penned  the 
"  Star  of  Bethlehem ;"  the  weaver-boy, 
Henry  Kirke  White,  was  not  a  vulgar  lad. 
Aud  so,  rny  respected  friends,  if  you  sur- 
render your  minds  to  the  teaching  of  God's 
word  and  Spirit,  they  will  receive  the 
truest,  deepest  refinement.  There  may  be 
nothing  in  your  movements  to  indicate  the 
training  of  the  dancing-school,  nor  any- 
thing in  your  elocution  which  speaks  of 
courtly  circles  or  smooth  society ;  but  there 
will  be  an  elevation  in  your  tastes,  and  a 
purity  in  your  feelings,  as  of  men  accus- 
tomed to  the  society  of  the  King  of  kings 
You  will  have  a  relish  for  a  higher  litera 
ture  than  the  halfpenny  ballad  or  the  Sun- 
day news,  and  for  a  more  improving  inter- 


80  THE   HAPPY   HOME 

course  than  the  tap  or  the  club  room  can 
supply.  And  though  you  may  not  have  at 
easy  command  the  phrases  of  politeness, 
the  most  polished,  if  they  but  be  the  chil- 
dren of  God,  will  have  sentiments  and  Ian 
guage  in  common  with  you,  and  a  stronger 
affinity  for  you  than  for  the  most  fine-spoken 
Jmpiety.  And  in  your  respectful  demea- 
nor to  those  above  you,  and  in  your  kind 
and  civil  carriage  to  those  around  you,  men 
will  see  that  you  have  learned  your  man- 
ners from  the  book  which  says,  "  Be  cour- 
teous," and  which  supplies  the  finest  model 
of  gentility.  The  religion  which  is  at  last 
to  lift  the  beggar  from  the  dunghill,  and 
set  him  with  nobles  of  the  earth,  will  even 
now  give  the  toiling  man  the  elevated  aims, 
the  enlarged  capacity,  the  lofty  tastes,  and 
manly  bearing,  which  princes  have  often 
lacked  ;  for  if  vice  be  the  worst  vulgarity, 
religion  is  the  best  refinement. 

5.  Religion  secures  that  priceless  pos- 
session—  a  HAPPY  HOME.  Six  things  are 
requisite  to  create  a  home.  Integrity  must 


A   BUNCH    IN    THE   HAND.  81 

be  the  architect,  and  Tidiness  the  uphols- 
terer. It  must  be  warmed  by  Affection, 
and  lighted  up  with  Cheerfulness ;  and  In- 
dustry must  be  the  ventilator,  renewing  the 
atmosphere,  and  bringing  in  fresh  salubrity 
day  by  day ;  while  over  all,  as  a  protecting 
canopy  and  defending  glory,  nothing  will 
suffice  except  the  blessing  of  God. 

Dear  reader,  if  you  are  in  earnest  your- 
self, I  hope  it  is  your  privilege  to  have  a 
pious  partner.  If  not,  "  what  knowest 
thou,  O  man,  but  that  by  prayer  and  per- 
suasion thou  mayest  gain  thy  wife  ?"  And 
then  all  will  work  sweetly ;  and  with  the 
Bible  to  direct  you,  and  helping  one  an- 
other, you  may  condense  into  your  dwel- 
ling, however  narrow,  all  the  happiness  of 
which  this  mortal  state  is  susceptible. 

la  the  north  of  England,  and  in  the  days 
of  haunted  houses,  a  certain  farm  was  in- 
fested by  a  mischievous  sprite.  It  skim- 
med the  milk,  and  soured  the  cream ;  it 
made  the  haystacks  heat,  and  blasted  the 
cattle  into  skin  and  bone ;  and  besides 


82  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 


frightening  the  maid-servants,  and  tumbling 
the  children  into  the  pond,  it  often  raised 
such  a  riot  up  among  the  rafters,  that  the 
poor  people  were  brought  to  their  wits' 
end,  and  resolved  on  leaving  the  place. 
Everything  was  packed,  and  the  cavalcade 
was  in  motion  ;  and  they  had  proceeded  so 
far  in  their  journey  when  a  countryman  met 
the  procession,  and  in  amazement  demand- 
ed, "  What's  thee  doing,  neighbor  Hodge?" 
"  We  are  flitting,"  shouted  the  farmer, 
gruffly ;  and  from  the  depths  of  the  wagon 
a  shrill  voice  echoed,  "  Yes,  WE  are  flit- 
ting ;"  and  at  the  same  moment  one  of  the 
youngsters  screamed,  "  Oh,  father,  father, 
Brownie's  in  the  churn !"  And  finding 
that  their  foe  was  as  ready  for  the  road  as 
themselves,  the  farmer  turned  the  horse's 
head,  and  went  back  to  his  old  premises 
with  a  look  of  woful  resignation.  And  in 
the  course  of  my  travels  I  have  often  en- 
countered a  Brownie's  flitting.  Beneath 
the  shadow  of  the  Drachenfels,  on  Loch- 
lomond's  silvery  tide,  in  the  fluttering 


A   BUNCH   IN   THE    HAND.  83 

streets  of  Paris,  and  on  the  bright  moun- 
tains of  Wales,  I  have  many  times  fallen  in 
with  a  family  party,  evidently  fleeing  from 
a  haunted  house.  And  having  devoted 
some  attention  to  the  subject,  I  find  that 
the  mansions  of  the  aristocracy  are  mainly 
frequented  by  two  evil  spirits,  called  Indif- 
ference and  Ennui.  They  are  dull  de- 
mons, both  of  them,  quite  different  from 
the  vivacious  Brownies  of  the  farm  and  the 
village  :  they  raise  no  racket  overhead  ;  but 
being  of  phlegmatic  mood  and  courtly  habits, 
they  wear  felt  slippers  and  glide  softly  over 
the  polished  floor.  The  one  is  an  incubus 
which  dulls  the  heart,  the  other  a  torpedo 
which  benumbs  the  brain.  Indifference  or 
Nonchalance  (for  both  he  and  his  cousin 
Ennui  are  foreigners,  and  had  French 
names  when  they  first  came  over)  —  Indif- 
ference takes  the  zest  from  friendship,  and 
all  the  endearment  out  of  closest  kindred, 
If  he  gets  into  the  breakfast-parlor,  my  lady 
and  my  lord  have  nothing  to  say  to  one  an- 
other, but  my  lord  takes  alternate  mouth- 


84  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

fuls  of  his  muffin  and  the  morning  paper, 
and  my  lady  communes  in  silence  with  the 
sugar-tongs  ;  and  if  he  gets  into  the  nursery, 
the  brothers  and  sisters  there  are  blighted 
into  little  lords  and  little  ladies,  with  as 
little  love  to  one  another  as  if  they  were 
already  old ;  and  if  they  love  papa  and 
mamma,  it  is  because  they  have  learned 
to  connect  them  with  the  cake  and  fruit 
which  endear  the  moments  after  dinner. 
And  Ennui  is  an  idle  ghost,  harboring  un- 
der ottomans  and  sofas,  fond  of  a  dressing- 
gown,  and  delighting  in  breakfasts  at  mid- 
day; and  a  most  irksome  ghost  —  a  sort  of 
aerial  cuttle,  shedding  inky  gloom  into  the 
atmosphere,  and  blackening  the  brightest 
skies  —  a  moral  Remora,*  frustrating  ex- 
istence, and  leaving  clever  and  accomplished 
people  without  an  object  and  without  an 

*The  press-corrector  has  put  a  query  at  this  word; 
and  perhaps  the  reader  will  put  another.  It  was  a  fish 
which,  in  the  time  of  Pliny,  could  stop  a  ship  in  full 
sail.  But,  as  it  is  no  longer  known  to  seamen,  I  sus- 
pect, as  hinted  above,  that  it  has  exchanged  the  stormy 
deep  for  our  modern  drawing-rooms. 


A.  BUNCH   IN   THE   HAND.  85 

effort,  becalmed  on  a  carpet,  spell-bound 
on  a  woollen  sea. 

"  Day  after  day,  day  after  day, 

They  stick,  nor  bieath  nor  motion ; 
As  idle  as  a  painted  ship 
Upon  a  painted  ocean." 

And  it  is  to  escape  from  these  afflictive 
inmates  that  the  travelling-carriage  is  or- 
dered to  the  door,  and  the  rumble  put  on. 
But  all  in  vain.  The  Brownies  have  be- 
spoken their  seats.  The  one  perks  his 
long  visage  between  my  lord  and  lady,  and 
the  other  mounts  the  box  with  the  heir  ap- 
parent. The  country  is  deplorably  "  stu- 
pid ;"  and  as  the  day  wears  on,  the  travel- 
lers discover  many  omissions  and  "  tire- 
some" mistakes,  which  are  so  far  a  relief  as 
entitling  them  to  be  cross  at  one  another; 
and  when  the  sumptuous  hotel  is  attained, 
and  the  costly  dinner  despatched,  a  sullen 
sprite  guides  each  to  his  chamber  and 
laughs  as  they  labor  to  sleep — 

"  For  vainly  Betty  performs  her  part, 
If  a  ruffled  head  and  a  rumpled  heart, 
As  well  as  the  couch,  want  making." 

8 


86  THE   HAPPr   HOME. 


And  I  am  sorry  to  add  that  many  a  cot- 
tage is  haunted.  The  circumstance  which 
first  called  my  attention  to  the  fact,  was 
finding  that  so  few  working-people  are 
keepers  at  home.  In  the  evenings,  I  found 
them  at  penny-theatres,  and  at  "judge  and 
jury"  trials,  smoking  beside  the  alehouse 
fire,  or  lounging  over  a  tankard  at  the  door 
of  some  country-tavern.  And  I  was  sorry 
to  see  them.  I  regretted  that  they  should 
be  so  selfish.  I  grieved  that  they  should 
indulge  in  enjoyments  in  which  their  wives 
and  children  could  not  share.  But  going 
to  their  houses,  I  found  a  reason.  I  found 
that  many  of  these  husbands  and  fathers 
were  driven  from  their  homes  by  evil  spirits. 
The  truth  is,  that  the  abode  of  many  an  in- 
dustrious man  is  rendered  miserable  by  two 
notorious  goblins,  and  they  are  none  the 
better  for  being  native  Saxons.  Tawdri- 
ness  is  a  sluttish  fairy,  rejoicing  in  dirt  and 
disorder ;  her  sandals  are  down  in  the 
heels,  the  better  to  display  the  gap  in  the 
stocking-sole ;  and  a  tuft  of  ragged  hair 


A   BUNCH   IN    THE   HAND.  87 

asserts  its  freedom  through  a  corresponding 
rent  in  the  frowzy  cap.  In  matters  of 
vcrtu  —  in  pottery  and  furniture  —  her  taste 
is  for  torsos  and  fractured  specimens,  chairs 
without  bottoms,  and  grates  without  bars  , 
and  therefore  she  breaks  the  spouts  of  the 
pitchers,  and  burns  the  nozzle  of  the  bel- 
lows and  the  brush  of  the  hearthbroom. 
And  in  the  picturesque,  her  liking  is  for 
new  combinations  and  striking  contrasts  ;  a 
blazing  riband  and  a  smutty  face  ;  a  feed 
to-day  and  a  fast  to-morrow.  On  one  end 
of  her  geographical  tea-table,  untouched 
since  the  morning,  England  is  represented 
in  crumbs  of  bread,  and  alongside,  the  sis- 
ter isle  is  sy  nbolized  in  potato-parings  ;  and 
at  another  corner,  an  Arve  of  muddy  ale 
mingles  with  a  Rhone  of  reluctant  sky- 
blue.  The  kindred  elf  is  Turmoil.  Her 
talent  lies  in  creating  discord ;  and  between 
the  slamming  of  the  door,  and  the  clashing 
of  the  fire-irons,  and  the  squalling  of  tur- 
bulent children,  it  is  not  surprising  that  she 
sometimes  scares  away  to  other  scenes  the 


88  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

distracted  "  good  man  of  the  house."  The 
two  together  are  more  than  a  match  for  any 
man  ;  and  we  can  not  wonder  at  the  strange 
asylums  which  people  seek  whose  homes 
are  haunted  by  dirtiness  and  din. 

But  all  these  foes  of  the  house  disappear 
when  piety  takes  possession.  I  could  re- 
;oice  to  tell  the  scenes  which  may  be  wit- 
nessed in  some  of  England's  stately  halls, 
where  the  genius  of  the  place  is  an  ascend- 
ant gospel,  and  where,  from  its  presence, 
listlessness  and  languor  have  fled  away. 
Because  I  think  you  would  like  to  look  at 
them,  I  would  gladly  sketch  some  of  these 
bright  moral  spectacles,  where,  surrounded 
by  the  beauties  of  nature  and  t'le  amenities 
of  art,  families  of  high  degree  dwell  lov- 
ingly together,  and  occupy  their  hours  in 
intellectual  improvement  and  in  devices  for 
doing  good  to  those  around  them  ;  where 
wealth  gives  practical  expression  to  philan- 
thropy, and  where  the  morning  and  even- 
ing sacrifice  derive,  not  virtue,  but  impres- 
iiveness  from  their  position  who  present  it 


A   BUNCH   IN   THE   HAND.  89 

But  I  must  indulge  in  no  more  digression. 
I  must  hasten  to  tell  how  real  religion  would 
make  your  homes  happy,  my  dear,  indus- 
trious neighbors. 

And,  for  one  thing,  it  would  make  them 
neat  and  tidy.  The  mind  of  an  ungodly 
man  is  all  confusion.  Whims  and  fancies, 
lusts  and  passions,  come  and  go ;  and  there 
being  no  pervasive  principle,  no  holy  con- 
trolling power,  no  master  of  the  house, 
that  mind  becomes  a  perfect  chaos  —  a  cage 
of  disorder  and  impurity.  And  that  mind 
manifests  itself.  It  is  very  apt  to  transfer 
its  own  image  to  the  abode  in  which  it 
dwells,  and  make  this  also  a  den  of  filth 
and  confusion.  But  as  soon  as  that  mind 
surrenders  to  the  spirit  of  God,  and  is  pos- 
sessed by  this  heavenly  inmate,  a  mighty 
change  comes  over  it.  He  shuts  the  door 
against  vile  thoughts  and  vilianous  notions  ; 
and  refractory  passions  he  quells  beneath 
his  firm  but  gentle  sway.  And  he  creates 
a  liking  for  what  is  pure,  honest,  lovely,  and 
of  good  report.  And  that  inward  change 
8* 


PC  THE   HAPP*   HOME. 


tells  outwardly  —  the  renewed  mind  shows 
itself.  It  sets  the  house  in  order ;  it  finds 
a  place  for  everything,  and  keeps  every- 
thing in  its  place ;  and  though  it  may  not 
afford  costly  raiment  or  fine  furniture,  it  is 
rich  enough  to  keep  them  clean. 

And  just  as  it  purifies  the  house,  so  reli- 
gion pacifies  the  household.  A  great  calm 
inwardly,  it  sheds  a  tranquillizing  influence 
on  every  side.  It  fills  the  hearts  which 
hold  it  with  love  to  one  another,  and  to 
happy  yokefellows  it  gives  a  truer  and  more 
tender  understanding  than  ever  sprang  from 
sentimental  fondness. 

The  man  of  prayer  is  always  a  man  of 
power.  His  very  presence  is  encircled  by 
a  serene  ascendency,  and  his  children  and 
all  around  him  feel  it.  His  own  happiness 
reminds  him  that  there  is  a  time  to  laugh 
and  a  time  to  play ;  and  instead  of  fretting 
at  childish  glee,  he  can  heartily  promote  it- 
Or  if  it  be  time  to  forbear,  his  friendly 
"  Hush  I"  creates  an  instant  and  cheerful 
calm.  The  man  of  prayer  carries  with  hira 


A   BUNCH   IN   THE   HAND.  91 

something  of  that  secret  majesty  which  is 
only  gotten  at  the  mercy-seat ;  and  while 
he  is  not  seeking  to  bend  all  things  to  his 
imperious  wishes,  he  finds  his  wishes  fore- 
stalled, and  his  desires  fulfilled  by  prompt 
affection,  or,  better  still,  by  a  kind  and  all- 
controlling  power.  And,  hastening  from 
his  daily  toil,  he  knows  what  he  may  ex- 
pect within  —  smiles  and  caresses,  and 
schoolroom  news,  loud  shouts  and  silent 
love  —  shouts  which  tell  that  the  father  is 
not  formidable,  and  silent  love,  which  can 
not  tell  how  dear  the  husband  is,  but  both 
together  telling  to  his  inmost  heart  the  lov 
ing-kindness  of  the  Lord. 

Reader,  your  happiness  will  be  my 
reward.  In  this  paper  I  have  tried  to 
show,  that,  even  within  the  limits  of  the 
present  life,  there  is  great  gain  in  con- 
tented godliness.  Will  you  not  try  it? 
Will  you  not  be  persuaded  to  that  wise 
experiment  which  thousands  have  made, 
out  never  one  regretted  ? 


02  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

Think  over  what  I  have  written.  Read 
it  to  your  wife.  Ask  her  what  she  thinks , 
and  should  you  both  agree  that  your  pres- 
ent course  is  not  the  best,  and  that  it  might 
be  mended,  begin  at  once  the  more  excel- 
lent way. 

Pray  to  God  that,  for  Jesus's  sake,  he 
would  give  you  the  teaching  of  his  own  Holy 
Spirit.  You  have  many  things  to  learn  ; 
many  bad  habits  to  give  up,  and  many  good 
ones  to  begin.  You  can  do  nothing  of 
yourselves ;  but  may  the  Lord  make  you 
able  and  willing  in  his  day  of  power! 

For  the  past,  seek  pardon  in  a  Saviour's 
blood.  If  urged  in  the  Mediator's  name, 
God  will  not  despise  the  prayer.  "  Wash 
me  from  mine  iniquity,  -  and  cleanse  me 
from  my  sin.  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart, 
O  God ;  and  renew  a  right  spirit  within 
me." 

And,  for  the  future,  resolve,  in  the 
strength  of  the  Lord,  on  a  course  of  con- 
duct entirely  new.  Say  with  the  Psalmist, 
"  I  will  behave  myself  wisely  in  a  perfect 


A    BUNCH    IN    THE    HAND,  93 

way;  I  will  walk  within  my  house  with  a 
perfect  heart.  A  fro  ward  heart  shall  de- 
part from  me  ;  I  will  not  know  a  wicked 
person. 

And,  to  show  that  you  are  sincere  —  lo 
prevent  your  present  purposes  from  melting 
like  the  vanished  goodness  of  other  days, — 
take  action.  This  evening  set  up  God's 
worship  in  your  family.*  Next  Lord's 
day  carry  your  household  to  some  Chris- 
tian sanctuary,  and  commence  a  course  of 
constant  attendance  on  the  means  of  grace. 
Break  instantly  with  any  bad  companions, 
and  if  there  be  anything  on  which  you 
covet  farther  light,  consult  some  mis- 
sionary, or  minister,  or  pious  friend.  And 
may  the  Lord  bless  you,  and  keep  you, 
and  cause  his  countenance  to  shine  upon 
you  ! 

*  Those  who  wish  directions  for  conducting?  this 
blessed  service,  which  has  given  a  new  and  joyful  aspect 
to  many  a  dwelling,  are  referred  to  a  tract,  called  «•  The 
Church  in  the  House." 

[This  tract  is  published  with  some  others  ii  »he 
BHarp  on  the  Willow." — AM.  PUB/! 


94  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

"  O  God  of  Bethel !  by  whose  hand 

Thy  people  still  are  fed, 
Who  through  this  weary  pilgrimage 
Hast  all  our  fathers  led  : 

«  Through  each  perplexing  path  of  life 

Our  wand'ring  footsteps  guide ; 
Give  us  each  day  our  daily  bread, 
And  raiment  fit  provide. 

*  O  spread  thy  cov'ring  wings  around, 

Till  all  our  wand'rings  cease, 
And  at  our  Father's  loved  abode, 
Our  *ouls  arrive  in  peace." 


Happy  Home. 


THE   BATTLE   OF   WATERLOO. 


p.  95 


THE  GUN  OR  THE  GOSPEL, 

NOT  long  ago  we  went  to  look  at  Water- 
loo—  and  Waterloo  looked  at  us.  Like 
most  of  the  storied  places  which  we  have 
chanced  to  visit,  he  seemed  to  remember 
all  about  himself,  and  told  us  a  deeper  tale 
than  the  old  sergeant  who  acted  as  our 
guide  and  his  interpreter.  We  found  him 
nearly  recovered  from  the  rough  usage  of 
the  famous  conflict.  His  right  arm,  the 
scorched  and  battered  Hougomont,  he  still 
carries  in  a  sling ;  and  a  huge  excrescence 
has  grown  up  where  the  shots  fell  thickest ; 
while  solemn  monuments  are  the  scars 
which  cover  many  a  casualty  On  the 
whole,  however,  the  veteran  wore  a  placid 
aspect.  His  crops  were  in  good  condition, 
and  he  had  lately  taken  to  the  bleaching 
trade ;  and  though  one  of  our  party  was 
hunting  a  rare  butterfly  on  the  very  mount 


96  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 


of  the  Belgic  lion,  he  did  not  resent  the 
levity.  Even  Waterloo,  though  pensively, 
appeared  to  share  the  spirit  of  the  age, 
and  gave  his  vote  for  traffic,  peace,  and 
progress. 

And  since  that  day,  in  quiet  hours,  the 
old  Battlefield  will  often  come  to  us  and 
talk  to  us.  And,  reader,  we  shall  confide 
to  thee  some  lessons  which  the  gray  war- 
rior has  whispered  in  our  inward  ear. 

Sometimes  he  says,  "  Be  thankful.  It 
was  no  common  fight :  it  was  not  a  play  of 
arms ;  it  was  not  the  old  tournay  betwixt 
France  and  England,  with  a  little  glory  for 
the  prize.  But  it  was  an  Armageddon, 
It  was  a  battle  betwixt  freedom  and  brute 
force  —  betwixt  the  soul  of  man  and  mili- 
tary despotism,  —  and  a  battle  of  most 
anxious  issue.  In  men  and  guns,  the  op- 
pressor was  much  the  strongest.  His  troops 
spoke  one  language,  were  moved  by  one 
intelligence,  and,  familiar  with  victory,  they 
were  this  time  flushed  with  vindictive  fury. 
The  allies  came  from  all  countries.  As  he 


THE   GUN    OR    THE    GOSPEL.  97 

marched  beneath  the  beech-trees  of  Soig- 
nies,  or  rose  from  his  rainy  bivouac  that 
morning,  many  a  soldier  felt  for  the  first 
time  that  he  was  about  to  stand,  front  to 
front,  with  death ;  and  even  the  bravest 
were  taken  aback  by  the  enemy's  rapid 
arrival.  And  had  some  little  move  been 
different  —  had  not  heavier  metal  been  in- 
troduced into  the  British  artillery — had 
the  Belgian  panic  spread  —  had  the  frail 
defence  of  Hougomont  yielded  —  had  Na- 
poleon not  wavered  at  a  critical  conjunc- 
ture—  had  the  English  guards  failed  to 
repel  the  charge  of  his  veterans  —  or  had 
the  Prussians  been  a  little  later  in  coming, — 
the  story  of  the  world  might  have  bounded 
back  a  hundred  years,  and,  like  another 
Sisyphus,  weary  Europe  would  have  been 
constrained  to  moil  up  hill  once  more  the 
stone  which  bluff  Harry  and  grand  Louis 
had  twice  before  rolled  down.  But  the 
Lord  on  high  controlled  it  all.  He  gave 
the  timely  valor ;  he  brought  the  season- 
able succor ;  he  prompted  the  previous 
9 


THE    HAPPY   HOME. 


plans,  and  crowned  them  with  prosperity; 
he  toned  the  nerves  on  which  freedom 
hung;  and  when  a  few  miles  and  a  single 
day  were  all  that  intervened  betwixt  Et- 
rope  and  an  age  of  steel,  he  smote  the 
spoiler,  and  gave  the  nations  what  they 
never  knew  before  —  a  generation  of  peace 
and  improvement;  an  era  of  busy  enter- 
prise and  bloodless  industry,  an  age  of 
intelligence,  and  liberty,  and  lofty  aspira- 
tions." 

Sometimes,  in  accents  more  subdued, 
our  oracle  will  say,  "  Be  thankful,  for  war 
is  fearful  work.  You  are  a  youngster,  and 
have  forgotten  it,  and  it  is  easy  for  you  to 
sit  under  your  fig-tree,  and  read  it  in  Ali- 
son or  Siborne  ;  but  you  can  never  realize 
it.  That  morning,  the  people  at  home  rose 
from  pleasant  slumber,  and  little  knew  what 
thousands,  over-night,  could  boast  no  better 
bed  than  the  flooded  fields  of  Mont  St. 
Jean.  And  when  the  village  bells  were 
sprinkling  sabbath  music  over  all  the  land, 
and  the  psalm  of  praise  pealed  high,  they 


THE    GUN   OR    THE    GOSPEL.  99 


did  not  hear  the  death-shots  rattle  and 
the  murdering  cannons  roar.  And  when 
the  Sunday-schools  were  met,  and  family 
groups  repeated  hymns  and  read  the  word 
of  God  together,  they  were  not  startled  by 
the  noise  as  bombs  exploded,  and  frantic 
squadrons  swooped  at  one  another  in  tram- 
pling thunder.  And  when  Highland  cot- 
tagers knelt  down  for  evening  worship,  and 
London  streets  were  brightly  filled  from 
closing  sanctuaries,  none  knew  that  their 
fathers  arid  brothers  strewed  the  turf  where 
the  tide  of  battle  had  receded,  and  left  be- 
hind its  wreck  of  surging  agony.  Distance 
of  place  made  people  unconscious,  and 
therefore  callous,  then  ;  distance  of  time 
makes  you  almost  as  unconscious  and  as 
callous  now.  But,  trust  me,  war  is  ghastly 
work,  and  I  never  shall  forget  that  night  of 
horrors.  I  can  not  forget  the  shudder  of 
mother  Earth  as  her  dying  children  tossed 
upon  her  bosom,  and  how  timidly  from 
among  the  clouds  the  moon  peeped  forth 
on  miles  of  slain.  I  can  not  forget  the 


100  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

moans,  and  blasphemies,  and  prayers.  I 
can  not  forget  how  the  stalwart  grenadier 
would  spurn  the  sod,  and  grasp  the  clay  in 
his  terrible  death-struggle ;  and  how  softly 
the  warm  blood  flowed  through  the  broid- 
ered  vest  of  the  gallant  youth,  till  England 
and  his  sisters  stood  before  his  eyes,  and 
melted  into  his  swooning  sleep.*  And, 
sooth  to  say,  broad-cast  with  orphanage 
and  widowhood  as  that  evening  left  my 
acres,  it  was  long  before  I  felt  the  pride 
of  glorious  victory."  But  lately  our  mystic 
visiter  came  to  us  in  more  cheerful  mood. 
It  was  a  sabbath  morning,  and  the  18th  of 
June  in  the  bygone  summer;  and  along 
with  the  dim  light  the  wraith  of  Waterloo 
stole  into  our  chamber.  u  I  wish  you  joy," 
said  the  vision  ;  "  a  new  thing  in  the  earth  ! 
Europe  completes  this  day  a  generation  of 

*  Those  who  would  like  to  know  how  it  fares  with 
the  wounded  soldier  on  the  field  of  battle,  may  read  the 
narrative  of  Colonel  Ponsonhy  as  given  in  Gleig's  story 
of  Waterloo.  It  is  too  long  for  transcription  here ;  but 
Mr.  Gilbert  has  told  most  of  it  in  the  sketch  which 
precedes  this  paper. 


THE    GUN    OR    THE    GOSPEL.  101 

repose  !  Britain  has  kept  peace  for  three 
arid  thirty  years  !  To  you  and  your  coe- 
vals the  lines  have  fallen  in  pleasant  places  ; 
and  for  your  lot  in  this  wealthiest  and  hap- 
piest of  all  times,  you  can  not  thank  enough 
the  Prince  of  Peace.  Diluted  and  indi- 
rect, there  is  a  gospel  in  this  age ;  and  if 
you  can  get  the  ear  of  any  of  your  coun- 
trymen, go  and  tell  them  the  blessings  of 
this  long  tranquillity.  And  go  and  tell  them 
about  that  gospel,  which,  did  the  world 
embrace,  it  would  never  need  another  Wa 
terloo." 

Fain  would  we  tell  them ;  but  in  a  short 
paper  like  this,  we  have  only  room  for 
hints. 

1.  One  most  obvious  advantage  of  peace 
is  the  occupation  which  it  gives  to  indus- 
try. In  time  of  war,  markets  are  shut,  and 
seas  are  dangerous.  Looking  on  Britain 
as  one  huge  factory  —  a  factory  which  is 
willing  to  spin  and  weave  for  all  the  world, 
it  is  plain  that  a  declaration  of  hostilities  is 
the  same  thing  as  the  closing  of  many  mar- 
9* 


102  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

kets.     Nations  against  whom  Britain  is  in 

o 

arms,  refuse  to  take  her  goods ;  and  though 
neutral  or  friendly  nations  may  still  be  wil- 
ling to  take  them,  they  can  not  so  easily 
get  them.  The  path  of  the  ocean  is  in- 
fested by  privateers  and  ships-of-war ;  and 
the  expense  of  transport  is  terribly  enhan- 
ced by  the  augmented  rates  of  insurance, 
and  by  long  detentions  in  waiting  for  a  con- 
voy ;  so  that  while  the  manufacturer  loses 
one  customer  by  losing  the  hostile  nation, 
in  consequence  of  the  higher  price  of  his 
commodities,  the  customer  whom  he  keeps 
can  only  buy  a  smaller  share.  For  in- 
stance, in  the  last  year  of  the  war,  in  1814, 
there  were  exported  from  this  country  six 
thousand  tons  of  hardware  and  cutlery; 
but  in  ten  years  of  peace,  the  quantity  had 
doubled,  and  in  twenty  years  had  nearly 
trebled.*  In  1801,  there  were  consumed 

*  The  exact  numbers  were : — 
In  1814         ....         6,162  tons. 
«  1824    .  .  12,285     « 

«  1834         ....       16,275     « 

Porter's  "  Progress  of  the  Nation." 


THE   tfUN   OR   THE   GOSPEL.  103 


in  the  cotton  manufactures  of  this  empire 
about  fifty  millions  of  pounds  of  the  raw 
material,  and  this  quantity  continued  nearly 
stationary  till  the  close  of  the  war.  But, 
five  years  after  the  restoration  of  peace,  the 
consumption  had  trebled  ;  in  ten  years  it 
was  quadruple ;  in  twenty  it  had  increased 
sixfold  ;  and  in  thirty  years,  it  was  twelve 
times  as  great  as  it  had  been  from  the  com- 
mencement to  the  close  of  hostilities.* 

In  other  words,  since  peace  was  estab- 
lished, employment  has  multiplied  three- 
fold or  fourfold  for  the  workmen  of  Bir- 
mingham and  Sheffield ;  and  for  the  spin- 
ners of  Glasgow  and  Manchester,  in  a  ratio 
of  twelve  to  one. 

2.  And  while  the  operatives  of  this  coun- 

*  The  consumption  of  cotton  in  the  mills  of  Britain 

was  as  follows: — 

1801         .  .         .         54,203,433  Ibs. 

1814 53,777,802  « 

1820  ....  152,829,633  « 
1825  ...  .  202,546,809  « 
1835  ....  333,043,464  « 
1845 592,581,600  « 

The  last  year  is  derived  from  Du  Fay  and  'Co.'s  Trade, 

Report ;  the  rest  from  Porter. 


104  THE   HAPPY    HOME. 

try  have  been  thus  contributing  to  the  com- 
fort of  the  human  brotherhood,  supplying 
scissors,  knives,  and  fowling-pieces,  to  the 
Indian  hunter  and  the  African  villager,  and 
apparel  to  all  the  world,  the  recompense 
has  come  back  into  their  own  wardrobe 
and  cupboard,  and  the  modern  mechanic  has 
become  a  far  wealthier  man  than  his  fore- 
father was.  The  twenty  million  pounds' 
worth  of  cotton  goods  which  we  annually 
ship  for  other  shores,  and  the  correspond- 
ing productions  of  other  sorts,  return  in 
commodities  good  for  food  and  pleasant  to 
the  eye.  And  though  an  English  laborer 
may  earn  no  more  shillings  in  a  week  than 
he  could  have  earned  thirty  years  ago,  these 
shillings  will  procure  comforts  and  accom- 
modations now  which  they  could  not  have 
compassed  then.  And  I  need  not  say  that 
wealth  lies  not  in  the  shilling,  but  in  the 
shilling's  worth  —  not  in  the  quantity  of 
coin  which  a  man  possesses,  but  in  the 
amount  of  commodities  which,  at  a  given 
time  and  place,  that  coin  will  procure. 


THE    GUN    OR    THE    GOSPEL.  105 

Applying  this  test  of  opulence,  we  may 
thankfully  conclude,  that  amid  all  its  re- 
maining privations,  British  industry  is  bet- 
ter conditioned  now  than  it  has  ever  been  ; 
and  we  may  trust  that,  with  peace  among 
the  nations,  and  with  sobriety  and  self-con- 
trol among  the  citizens,  the  standard  of 
comfort  will  steadily  ascend. 

To  make  the  improvement  palpable,  we 
might  appeal  to  the  better  clothing  of  the 
artisan  and  of  his  wife  and  children.  And 
we  might  refer  to  the  better  furniture  of 
his  abode.  But  we  select  an  instance  in 
those  articles  which  were  once  the  luxury 
of  the  rich,  but  are  now,  to  some  extent, 
the  privilege  of  all.  In  1814,  there  were 
imported,  for  Britain's  home  consumption, 
19,224,154  Ibs.  of  tea.  In  1846,  the  im- 
port had  mounted  to  47,500,000  Ibs.  That 
is,  in  the  former  year,  each  inhabitant  of 
the  United  Kingdom  consumed  a  pound 
of  tea ;  in  the  latter  year,  there  was  an  al- 
lowance to  each  of  one  pound  ten  ounces. 
In  1814,  ther3  were  imported  about  6,000,- 


106 


000  Ibs.  of  coffee.  In  1846,  the  import  of 
coffee  for  domestic  use  had  risen  to  36,- 
781,391  Ibs.  That  is,  there  was,  in  the 
former  year,  an  allowance  of  five  ounces, 
or  thereby,  and  in  the  latter,  nearly  a  pound 
and  a  quarter  to  each  inhabitant  of  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland.*  In  1814  there  were 
imported  223,775,888  Ibs.  of  sugar.  In 
1846  there  were  entered  for  consumption 
547,292,816  Ibs.  That  is,  assuming  the 
population  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  as 
eighteen  millions  at  the  former  period  and 
thirty  millions  at  the  latter,  we  have,  at  the 
earlier  date,  twelve  pounds  of  sugar  for 
each  inhabitant,  and  at  the  later  period, 
eighteen  pounds.f  And  what  renders  this 

*To  which  may  be  added  3,000,000  Ibs.  of  cocoa  in 
1846  against  nothing  in  1814. 

•(•  The  above  calculations  are  founded  on  statements 
contained  in  the  house  of  commons'  report  on  commer- 
cial relations  with  China  (IS47);  reports  of  meetings 
at  Liverpool  on  the  tea  duties;  M'Culloch's  Dictionary 
of  Commerce  ;  the  last  edition  of  the  Encyclopaedia 
Britannica  ;  the  trade  circulars  of  Messrs,  T.  and  H. 
Littledale,  of  Liverpool,  and  Messrs.  Ripley,  Brown,  & 
Co.,  of  London  ;  along  with  items  of  information  obli* 
gingly  communicated  by  personal  friends. 


THE   GUN    OR   THE    GOSPEL.  107 

progress  peculiarly  cheering,  is  the  assu- 
rance that  it  is  mainly  a  progress  among  the 
working-classes.  The  wealthier  members 
of  the  community  consume  no  more  at 
present  than  they  did  forty  years  ago,  for 
even  when  the  article  was  dearest  they  used 
as  much  as  they  required.  Other  people 
only  use  as  much  as  they  can  afford  ;  and 
though  we  wish  they  could  afford  a  great 
deal  more,  we  are  glad  to  find  that  the  mass 
of  the  population  can  now  command  these 
healthful  and  innocent  enjoyments  to  an 
extent  which  no  other  nation  knows,  and 
which,  to  our  frugal  fathers  would  have 
looked  like  dangerous  luxury. 

3.  But  there  is  another  way  in  which 
the  commonwealth  has  profited  by  peace. 
It  has  let  loose  much  of  the  capital,  and 
all  the  mind  and  soul  which  were  formerly 
locked  up  in  the  great  business  of  fighting. 
By  its  constant  demands,  war  drains  the 
wealth  of  a  kingdom,  and  instead  of  spe  id- 
ing  his  money  in  building  mills,  or  improv- 
ing waste  lands,  the  capitalist  is  obliged  to 


108  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 


some  of  it  into  the  exchequer  in  the 
shape  of  positive  taxes,  and  is  tempted  to 
pay  over  the  remainder  in  the  shape  of  lu- 
crative loans.  And  even  though  taxation 
did  not  rise,  and  though  the  capitalist  con- 
tinued as  wealthy  as  before,  war  makes  him 
timid  and  retentive  ;  afraid  to  launch  a  ship 
to-day  which  may  be  captured  to-morrow  ; 
afraid  to  build  a  factory  this  autumn,  which 
the  torch  of  the  invader  may  reduce  to 
ashes  next  spring  ;  afraid  to  commence 
some  costly  process  of  production,  when 
the  market  for  which  he  designed  it  may 
be  shut  in  a  moment,  and  remain  hermeti- 
cally closed  for  years  to  come.  But  en- 
couraged by  protracted  peace,  the  capital 
:>f  England  has  waxed  courageous  and  con- 
adent,  and  has  given  to  the  workingmen  of 
these  kingdoms  an  extent  and  continuance 
of  employment  without  a  parallel  in  modern 
story. 

And  peace  has  set  free,  for  the  purposes  of 
human  improvement,  that  large  amount  of 
intelligence  which  war,  the  monster-monop- 


THE    GUN    OR   THE    GOSPEL.  109 

olist,  absorbed  into  itself.  In  the  fighting 
times  the  engineer  exerted  his  skill  to  in- 
vent new  implements  of  destruction,  and 
was  mighty  in  catamarans,  and  rocket-tubes, 
and  martello-towers ;  and  incandescent  with 
phosphorus  and  sulphur,  the  patriotic  chym- 
ist  exercised  himself  in  cheapening  gun- 
powder, and  discovering  Greek  fire.  The 
two  ventricles  of  the  nation's  heart  were 
the  horse-guards  and  the  admiralty,  and  all 
thought  and  interest,  the  nation's  very  life, 
flowed  through  them.  And  though  some- 
times a  gentle  spirit  hinted  a  mitigation  of 
the  criminal  code,  or  a  concession  to  some 
overburdened  class,  the  rebuffs  which  he 
perpetually  encountered  taught  him  that  he 
was  born  before  the  time.  But,  when 
peace  arrived,  the  volunteer  beat  his  sword 
into  a  ploughshare,  and  the  soldier  became 
philanthropist.  It  was  no  longer  needful 
for  the  mind  of  the  nation  to  deposite  its 
first-fruits  on  the  altar  of  Moloch  ;  but. 
without  impeachment  of  his  loyalty,  the 
mechanist,  and  statesman,  and  the  lover  of 
10 


110  THE   HAPPY    HOM1I. 

his  species,  might  devote  his  energies  to 
useful  inventions  and  civic  reforms,  and  all 
those  benevolent  labors  which  tend  to  make 
a  bad  world  better. 

We  can  not  recount  all  the  discoveries 
of  this  peaceful  age,  from  a  lucifer-match 
up  to  a  railroad,  and  from  a  steamship 
clown  to  a  pair  of  gutta-percha  goloshes. 
But  these  discoveries  have  made  the  mod- 
ern laborer  a  mightier  man  than  an  ancient 
lord.  Just  look  at  your  lot,  and  wonder 
at  your  wealth.  There  was  your  worthy 
father — when  he  wanted  to  be  up  betimes, 
he  lost  half  the  night  listening  to  the  village 
clock,  and  starting  up  at  all  the  hours  ex- 
cept the  right  one  ;  and  when  at  last,  a  trifle 
late,  he  jumped  out  of  bed,  and  got  hold 
of  the  tinder-box,  after  ten  minutes'  prac- 
tice with  the  flint  and  steel,  heated  but  not 
enlightened,  through  sleet  and  slush  he  had 
to  seek  his  neighbor's  door,  and  borrow  a 
burning  brand.  But  soundly  reposing  all 
the  night,  and  by  an  alarum  roused  at  the 
appointed  minute,  you  rasp  the  ready  match 


THE   GUN    OR   THE   GOSPEL.  Ill 

across  the  sanded  surface,  and  turn  the 
stopcock  of  the  magic  tube,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment are  surrounded  by  an  affluence  of  the 
purest  light.  It  was  in  the  Brighton  van 
that  your  father  travelled,  that  hard  season 
when  he  visited  the  coast  in  search  of  work, 
and  he  never  got  the  better  of  the  long, 
bleak  journey.  But  for  your  own  diversion 
you  took  the  trip  the  other  day.  You  went 
in  the  morning  and  returned  at  night,  and  it 
cost  you  neither  cough  nor  rheumatism, 
and  less  money  altogether  than  you  would 
have  paid  for  one  night's  jolting  in  the  frosty 
van.  When  the  last  letter  came  from  your 
poor  brother  in  the  north  —  penny  stamps 
were  not  invented  then  —  and  you  remem- 
ber how  rueful  you  felt,  as  the  postman  re- 
fused to  leave  the  precious  packet,  for  you 
had  not  in  all  the  house  a  shilling  and 
threepence  halfpenny.  Arid  when  your 
uncle  broke  his  leg,  and  the  bungling  sur 
geon  set  it  so  badly,  that  it  had  to  be  bro- 
ken and  set  anew,  after  all  his  torture  he 
never  got  full  use  of  it  again.  But  when 


'A2  THE   HAPI'Y    HOME. 

you  put  out  your  shoulder-blade,  you  can 
not  tell  how  they  set  it  to  rights ;  for  all 
your  remembrance  is,  the  doctor  holding 
some  fragrant  essence  to  your  nostrils,  and 
when  you  awoke  from  a  pleasant  trance, 
the  arm  was  supple,  and  you  yourself  all 
straight  and  trim. 

To  peace  we  are  indebted  for  cities  lit 
with  gas,  and  rivers  alive  with  steam.  To 
peace  we  owe  the  locomotive  and  the  tele- 
graph, which  have  made  the  British  towns 
one  capital,  and  remotest  provinces  the  en- 
closing park.  To  peace  our  thanks  are 
due  for  food  without  restriction,  and  inter- 
course without  expense  ;  for  journeys  with- 
out fatigue,  and  operations  without  pain  ; 
cheap  correspondence  and  cheap  corn ; 
railway  cars  and  chloroform.  And  to  the 
same  bounteous  source  —  or  rather  to  the 
Giver  of  peace,  and  of  every  perfect  gift — 
we  stand  beholden  for  the  hundred  expe- 
dients which  now  combine  to  make  life 
longer  and  more  happy. 

But  far  better  than  such  material  boons 


THE   GUN   OP.   THE   GOSPEL.  113 

are  the  social  and  moral  blessings  which 
have  followed  in  the  train  of  peace.  It 
has  given  us  leisure  to  review  our  position, 
and  has  not  only  revealed,  but  remedied 
some  of  its  worst  evils.  It  has  enabled  us 
o  emancipate  our  slaves,  and  it  has  short- 
ened the  hours  of  factory  labor.  It  has 
so  enlarged  the  franchise  that  no  frugal  citi- 
zen need  despair  of  attaining  it ;  and  it  has 
given  to  public  opinion  a  legislative  power 
which  it  never  knew  before.  It  has  revised 
our  criminal  jurisprudence,  and  has  ex- 
punged from  the  statute-book  the  greater 
number  of  its  sanguinary  laws.  And  it 
has  lately  been  turning  a  benevolent  eye 
toward  the  abodes  and  occupations  of  the 
poor,  and  has  sought  to  give  the  sons  of 
toil  cheerful  amusements  and  salubrious 
dwellings.  And  by  removing  taxes  on 
knowledge,  and  by  improvements  in  print- 
ing, it  has  made  the  newspaper  a  familiar 
visiter  of  cottages,  and  has  rendered  bibles 
and  other  books  as  cheap  as  loaves  of  bread. 
When  the  New  Zealand  chief  was  going 
10* 


114  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 


to  war,  and  the  missionary  remonstrated, 
he  exclaimed  :  "  But  what  shall  I  do  with 
my  barrels  of  gunpowder?"  So  might 
Britain  have  remonstrated,  could  any  one 
have  warned  her  that  there  was  to  be  no 
more  fighting  for  thirty  successive  years. 
"  What  will  become  of  all  our  energies? 
our  combativeness  and  enterprise,  and  love 
of  adventure?  and  all  the  heroic  ingre- 
dients of  our  national  character?  We 
must  have  a  battle,  though  it  were  only  to 
keep  so  much  good  gunpowder  from  spoil- 
ing." But  God  himself  has  found  another 
outlet  for  these  energies ;  and  it  is  with 
God's  own  enemy  and  man's  —  it  is  with 
moral  evil  —  that  the  great  battle  is  now  be- 
gun. Fighting  on  the  field  of  foreign  hea- 
thenism and  home-bred  depravity,  every 
teacher  of  a  ragged  school  or  a  Sunday 
class,  every  faithful  superintendent  of  a 
penitentiary  or  a  convict-ship,  and  every 
earnest  minister  or  missionary  is  a  soldier ; 
and  every  outcast  reclaimed,  every  child 
instructed,  and  every  human  being  won 


THE   GUN   OR   THE   GOSPEL.  115 

over  to  the  cause  of  piety  and  virtue,  is 
another  victory.  This  is  the  great  contest 
of  our  age ;  and  in  this  bloodless  battle  \ve 
long  to  see  enlisted  all  the  chivalry  and 
prowess  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  world.  We 
long  to  see  a  holy  war  in  which  men  shall 
fight  with  their  own  bad  passions,  and  shall 
seek  to  demolish  nothing,  except  those 
works  of  the  devil  which  the  Son  of  God 
came  to  destroy.  We  long  to  see  a  cam- 
paign, not  of  race  against  race,  nor  of  class 
against  class ;  but  a  crusade  of  all  races 
and  all  classes  against  whatever  is  ungodly 
and  selfish  here  below.  We  long  to 
see — precursor  of  the  Prince  of  peace  — 
a  war  in  which  the  Bible  shall  be  the 
standard,  and  Christianity  the  uniform;  in 
which  the  gospel  or  love  divine  shall  be  the 
only  weapon,  and  sin  the  only  enemy ;  a  war 
in  which  the  watchword  and  the  rallying 
cry  shall  be,  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest ; 
on  earth  peace,  good-will  toward  man."* 

*  To  show  how  extensively  the  evangelical  spirit  has 
§pread,  and   how   greatly    Christian  philanthropy  has 


116 


THE   HAPPY   HOME. 


And  now  that  it  is  done,  do  you  ask  the 
purpose  of  this  paper  ?  It  is,  first  of  all,  to 
make  the  reader  and  the  writer  thankful. 
It  is,  to  make  more  vivid  to  our  minds 
God's  goodness  in  casting  our  lot  on  this 
tranquil  time. 

strengthened  during  these  peaceful  years,  we  might 
refer  to  the  statistics  of  any  religious  society.  For  in- 
stance, in  1814,  the  Bible  society  had  a  revenue  of 
87,216/.,  and  issued  352,569  copies  of  the  Scriptures; 
but  in  the  year  ending  March,  1847,  its  income  was 
117,440/.,  and  its  issues  were  1,419,283  copies.  And 
the  following  table,  from  returns  kindly  furnished  by 
the  secretaries,  shows  the  relative  income  and  mission- 
ary staff  of  the  four  leading  societies : — 


NUMBER    OF 

INCOME. 

MISSIONARIES. 

Church   of  ) 

1814. 

1847. 

1814. 

1847. 

England    $ 

10,788/. 

101,2947. 

22 

180a. 

Wesley  an  .  . 

9,554 

103,619 

70 

411 

London    .  .  . 

19,429 

76,319 

68 

1656 

Baptist.  .  .  . 

7,000 

25,000 

20 

70c 

To  which  may  be  added  the  many  societies  which  had 
no  existence  at  the  earlier  period.  It  is  only  five  years 
since  the  Free  Church  of  Scotland  became  a  distinct 
community,  and  in  that  time  it  has  contributed  for 
Christian  purposes  upward  of  a  million  and  a  half  of 
money. 

a  Besides  1298  country-born  and  native  teachers. 

b  Besides  700  teachers. 

e  Besides  159  teachers. 


THE    GUN   OR   THE   GOSPEL.  117 

And  we  have  written  with  a  view  to  per- 
petuate the  blessing.  We  confess  a  desire 
for  the  spread  of  pacific  principles  ;  and 
we  would  urge  their  importance  on  that 
class  of  the  community  who,  if  not  the 
greatest  gainers  in  peace,  are  the  first  and 
the  sorest  sufferers  in  war. 

But  what  can  a  working  man  contribute 
toward  the  grand  result  of  "  peace  on 
earth"  ?  He  can  contribute  to  society  one 
peaceful  citizen.  Forming  his  own  opin- 
ions and  holding  his  own  convictions,  he  can 
lay  down  and  carry  out  the  rule  of  leaving 
truth  to  fight  its  own  battle.  He  can  fostei 
in  his  children  habits  of  magnanimity  and 
mutual  forbearance,  and  can  teach  them  tha 
"  greater  is  he  who  ruleth  his  spirit  than  he 
who  taketh  a  city."  He  can  exhibit  that 
brightest  heroism  which  retaliates  evil  with 
good  ;  and  he  may  do  his  endeavor  to  spread 
that  gospel  which  is  the  grand  peace- 
maker. And  looking  forward  to  the  day 
when  the  weapons  of  the  warrior,  like  the 
engines  of  the  inquisitor,  shall  only  survive 


118  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

on  the  shelves  of  the  museum,  as  relics  of  a 
fearful  barbarism,  he  may  even  now,  by  his 
practical  suffrage,  recognise  the  majesty  of 
mind  and  the  meanness  of  physical  force. 

And  he  can  teach  his  fellow-workmen 
the  more  excellent  way  for  obtaining  their 
just  demands.  Break  the  head  of  a  bur- 
gess or  yeoman,  and  however  liberal  his 
former  leanings,  you  make  him  at  once  an 
enemy  of  the  popular  cause ;  burn  a  cot- 
ton-mill, and,  by  raising  the  rates  of  insu- 
rance and  ruining  confidence — confidence 
in  the  good-sense  and  forbearance  of  the 
English  people — you  make  the  owner  hes- 
itate whether  he  will  build  another;  burn  a 
second,  and  the  owner  does  not  hesitate, 
but  at  once  withdraws  to  safer  regions  his 
capital  and  his  family,  and  leaves  to  lasting 
misery  some  hundreds  of  your  fellows ; 
burn  a  dozen,  and  Lancashire  will  soon  be 
a  Saxon  Tipperary,  with  no  smoking  chim- 
neys to  deface  the  landscape,  nor  any  fac- 
tory bell  to  disturb  the  ragged  holyday  ;  but, 
unlike  the  Celtic  Tipperary,  without  a  mar- 


THE    GUN   OR   THI!    GOSPEL. 


ket  for  its  pigs,  and  when  potatoes  rot, 
without  a  hard-working  neighbor  to  send  it 
beef  and  bread.  But  let  the  industrious 
classes  advance  in  education  and  principle, 
and  there  is  no  political  privilege  which 
they  need  despair  of  attaining,  nor  any 
which  a  right-hearted  citizen  would  grudge 
to  share  with  them.  The  working-classes 
will  find  their  most  eloquent  argument,  as 
well  as  their  most  effective  armor,  in  their 
own  worth  and  intelligence. 

And  every  laborer  who,  in  the  manifesto 
of  Messiah  the  prince,  has  read  that  golden 
sentence,  "  Blessed  are  the  peacemakers, 
for  they  shall  be  called  the  children  of 
God,"  may  pray,  "  O,  Prince  of  peace,  thy 
kingdom  come  —  thy  kingdom  of  righteous- 
ness, and  peace,  and  joy."  He  may  pray 
for  the  quick  arrival  of  that  time  when,  be- 
neath the  Saviour's  benignant  sceptre,  the 
Bible  shall  supplant  the  baton,  and  the  gos- 
pel shall  silence  the  gun  ;  and  joined  in 
cordial  brotherhood,  the  sons  of  Adam  shall 
again  behold  this  earth  a  happy  home  ! 


THE  OASIS, 

THE  sabbath  is  God's  gracious  present 
to  a  working  world;  and  for  wearied  minds 
and  bodies  it  is  the  grand  restorative.  The 
Creator  has  given  us  a  natural  restorative  — 
sleep;  and  a  moral  restorative  —  sabbath- 
keeping  ;  and  it  is  ruin  to  dispense  with  either. 
Under  the  pressure  of  high  excitement,  in- 
dividuals have  passed  weeks  together  with 
little  sleep,  or  none  ;  but  when  the  process 
is  long-continued,  the  over-driven  powers 
rebel,  and  fever,  delirium,  and  death,  come 
on.  Nor  can  the  natural  amount  be  regu- 
larly curtailed  without  corresponding  mis- 
chief. The  sabbath  does  not  arrive  like 
sleep.  The  day  of  rest  does  not  steal  over 
us  like  the  hour  of  slumber.  It  does  not 
entrance  us  whether  we  will  or  not;  but  ad- 
dressing us  as  intelligent  beings,  our  Crea- 
tor assures  us  that  we  need  it,  and  bids  us 


THE    OASIS.  121 


notice  its  return,  and  court  its  renovation. 
And  if,  rushing  in  the  face  of  our  Creator's 
kindness,  we  force  ourselves  to  work  all 
days  alike,  it  is  not  long  till  we  pay  the  for- 
feit. The  mental  worker — the  man  of  busi- 
ness or  the  man  of  letters  —  finds  his  ideas 
coming  turbid  and  slow ;  the  equipoise  of 
his  faculties  is  upset;  he  grows  moody,  fit- 
ful, and  capricious ;  and  with  his  mental 
elasticity  broken,  should  any  disaster  occur, 
he  subsides  into  habitual  melancholy,  or  in 
self-destruction  speeds  his  guilty  exit  from 
a  gloomy  world.  And  the  manual  worker 
—  the  artisan,  the  engineer — fagging  on 
from  day  to  day,  and  week  to  week,  the 
bright  intuition  of  his  eye  gets  blunted,  and, 
forgetful  of  their  cunning,  his  fingers  no 
longer  perform  their  feats  of  twinkling  agil- 
ity, nor,  by  a  plastic  and  tuneful  touch, 
mould  dead  matter,  or  wield  mechanic  pow- 
er ;  but,  mingling  his  life's  blood  in  his  daily 
drudgery,  his  locks  are  prematurely  gray, 
his  genial  humor  sours,  and,  slaving  it  till 
he  has  become  a  morose  or  reckless  man, 
11 


122  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

for  any  extra  effort,  or  any  blink  of  balmy 
feeling,  be  must  stand  indebted  to  opium  or 
alcohol.  To  an  industrious  population  so 
essential  is  tbe  periodic  rf,st,  that  when,  in 
France,  the  attempt  was  made  to  abolish 
the  weekly  sabbath,  it  was  found  necessary 
to  issue  a  decree,  suspending  labor  one  day 
in  every  ten.  And  in  our  own  country,  when 
at  attempt  was  made,  in  time  of  war,  to  work 
a  royal  manufactory  without  a  pause  —  at 
the  end  of  a  few  months,  it  was  ascertained 
that  the  largest  amount  of  work  had  been 
accomplished  by  the  hands  exempted  from 
Sunday  labor.*  Master  manufacturers  have 
stated  that  they  could  perceive  an  evident 

*  "  Not  many  years  ago,  a  contractor  went  on  to  the 
west  with  his  hired  men  and  teams  to  make  a  turnpike 
road.  At  first  he  paid  no  regard  to  the  sabbath ;  but 
continued  his  work  as  on  other  days.  He  soon  found, 
however,  that  the  ordinances  of  nature,  no  less  than  the 
moral  law,  were  against  him.  His  laborer*  became 
sickly,  his  teams  grew  poor  and  feeble,  and  he  was  fully 
convinced  that  more  was  lost  than  gained  by  working 
on  the  Lord's  day.  So  true  is  it  that  the  sabbath-day 
laborer,  like  the  glutton  and  the  drunkard,  undermines 
his  health,  and  prematurely  hastens  the  infirmities  of 
age,  and  his  exit  from  the  world.". — Dr.  Humphrey  of 
America. 


THE   OASIS.  123 


deterioration  in  the  quality  of  the  goods  pro- 
duced as  the  week  drew  near  a  close,  just 
because  the  tact,  alertness,  and  energy  of 
the  workers  began  to  experience  inevitable 
exhaustion.  When  a  steamer  on  the  Thames 
blew  up,  not  long  ago,  the  firemen  and  sto- 
kers laid  the  blame  on  their  broken  sabbath* 
it  stupified  and  embittered  them  —  made 
them  blunder  at  their  work,  and  heedless 
what  havoc  these  blunders  might  create. 
And  we  have  been  informed  that,  when  the 
engines  of  an  extensive  steam-packet  com- 
pany in  the  south  of  England  were  getting 
constantly  damaged,  the  mischief  was  in- 
stantly repaired  by  giving  the  men,  what  the 
bounty  of  their  Creator  had  given  them  long 
before,  the  rest  of  each  seventh  day.  And 
what  is  so  essential  to  industrial  efficiency, 
is  no  less  indispensable  to  the  laborer's 
health  and  longevity.  This  was  well  ex- 
plained before  a  committee  of  the  house  of 
commons  by  an  accomplished  physician, 
Dr.  Farre :  — 

"Although  the  night  apparently  equalizes 


124  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

the  circulation  well,  yet  it  does  not  suffi- 
ciently restore  its  balance  for  the  attainment 
of  a  long  life.  Hence  one  day  in  seven, 
by  the  bounty  of  Providence,  is  thrown  in 
as  a  day  of  compensation,  to  perfect  by  its 
repose  the  animal  system.  You  may  easily 
determine  this  question  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
by  trying  it  on  beasts  of  burden.  Take  that 
fine  animal  the  horse,  and  work  him  to  the 
full  extent  of  his  powers  every  day  of  the 
week,  or  give  him  rest  one  day  in  seven, 
and  you  will  soon  perceive,  by  the  superior 
vigor,  with  which  he  performs  his  functions 
on  the  other  six  days,  that  this  rest  is  neces- 
sary to  his  well-being.  Man,  possessing  a 
superior  nature,  is  borne  along  by  the  very 
vigor  of  his  mind,  so  that  the  injury  of  con- 
tinued diurnal  exertion  and  excitement  on 
his  animal  system  is  not  so  immediately  ap- 
parent as  it  is  in  the  brute;  but,  in  the  long 
run,  he  breaks  down  more  suddenly  :  it 
abridges  the  length  of  his  life  and  that 
vigor  of  his  old  age,  which  (as  to  mere  an- 
imal power)  ought  to  be  the  object  of  his 


THE   OASIS.  125 


preservation.  *  *  *  This  is  said  simply  as  a 
physician,  and  without  reference  at  all  to  the 
theological  question  ;  but  if  you  consider 
further  the  proper  effect  of  real  Christianity, 
namely,  peace  of  mind,  confiding  trust  in 
God,  and  goodwill  to  man,  you  will  per- 
ceive in  this  source  of  renewed  vigor  to  the 
mind,  and  through  the  mind  to  the  body, 
an  additional  spring  of  life  imparted  from 
this  higher  use  of  the  sabbath  as  a  holy 
rest." 

The  sabbath  is  God's  special  present  to 
the  working  man,  and  one  chief  object  is 
to  prolong  his  life  and  preserve  efficient  his 
working  tone.  In  the  vital  system  it  acts 
like  a  compensation-pond :  it  replenishes 
the  spirits,  the  elasticity,  and  vigor,  which 
the  last  six  days  have  drained  away,  and 
supplies  the  force  which  is  to  fill  the  six 
days  succeeding.  And  in  the  economy  of 
existence  it  answers  the  same  purpose  as, 
in  the  economy  of  income,  is  answered  by 
a  savings'  bank.  The  frugal  man  who  puts 
aside  a  pound  to-day,  and  another  pound 
11* 


126  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

next  month,  and  who  in  a  quiet  way  is  al- 
ways putting  past  his  stated  pound  from 
time  to  time,  when  he  grows  old  and  frail 
gets  not  only  the  same  pounds  back  again, 
but  a  good  many  pounds  besides.  And 
the  conscientious  man  who  husband's  one 
day  of  existence  every  week  —  who,  instead 
of  allowing  the  sabbath  to  be  trampled  and 
torn  in  the  hurry  and  scramble  of  life, 
treasures  it  devoutly  up  —  the  Lord  of  the 
sabbath  keeps  it  for  him,  and  in  length  of 
days  and  a  hale  old  age  gives  it  back  with 
usury.  The  saving's  bank  of  human  exist- 
ence is  the  weekly  sabbath-day. 

Another  purpose  for  which  the  Father 
of  earth's  families  has  presented  the  work- 
man with  this  day,  is  to  enhance  his  do- 
mestic comfort  and  make  him  happy  in  his 
home.  If  it  were  not  for  this  beneficent 
arrangement,  many  a  toiling  man  would 
scarcely  ever  know  the  gentle  glories  and 
sweet  endearments  of  his  own  fireside. 
Idle  people  are  sometimes  surfeited  with 
the  society  of  one  another,  and  wealthy 


THE    OASIS.  127 


people,  however  busy,  can  buy  an  occasion- 
al holy  day.  But  though  the  working-man 
gets  from  his  employer  only  one  or  two  days 
of  pastime  in  all  the  year,  his  God  has  given 
him  two-and-fifty  sabbaths ;  and  it  is  these 
sabbaths  which  impart  the  sanctity  and  sweet- 
ness to  the  poor  man's  home.  If  he  has 
finished  his  marketing,  and  cleared  off  his 
secular  engagements  on  Saturday  night,  it 
is  marvellous  what  a  look  of  leisure  and 
bright  welcome  ushers  in  the  morrow,  and 
what  a  spirit  of  serene  expectancy  breathes 
through  the  tidy  and  well-trimmed  cham- 
ber. The  peace  of  God  lights  up  the  pi- 
ous laborer's  dwelling,  and,  reserved  from 
a  toil-worn  week,  the  radiance  of  true  love 
pours  freely  forth  in  these  gleams  of  sab- 
bath sunshine.  With  graceful  tint  it  touch- 
es the  deal  chairs  and  homely  table,  and 
converts  a  fathom  of  gray  carpet  into  "a 
wonder  of  the  loom."  It  plays  iridescent 
among  the  quaint  ornaments  of  the  mantel- 
shelf, streams  over  the  hearth-stone,  and 
perches  on  the  eight-day  clock  —  the  St. 


128  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

Elm  of  rough  weather  past — the  omen  of 
good  days  to  corne.  It  penetrates  affec- 
tionate bosoms,  and  revives  old  memories 
deep  and  tender,  which,  but  for  such  week- 
ly resurrection,  might  have  died  for  ever  ; 
and  with  early  interest  and  endearment  it 
suffuses  that  face  which  on  sabbath  morns 
is  always  young,  and  reminds  the  proud 
possessor  of  that  wealth  of  quiet  wisdom  and 
thoughtful  kindness  with  which  the  Lord 
has  blessed  his  lot.  And  in  the  thaw  of 
friendly  and  thankful  feelings,  in  the  flow 
of  emotions  cordial  and  devout,  silent  praises 
sparkle  in  the  eye,  and  the  husband's  love 
and  the  father's  joy  well  up  to  the  very 
brim. 

"  Hail,  sabbath !  thee  I  hail,  the  poor  man's  day : 
On  other  days  the  man  of  toil  is  doomed 
To  eat  his  joyless  bread,  lonely  ;  the  ground 
Both  seat  and  board,  screened  from  the  winter's  cold 
And  summer's  heat  by  neighboring  hedge  or  tree. 
But  on  this  day,  embosomed  in  his  home, 
He  shares  the  frugal  meal  with  those  he  loves ; 
With  those  he  loves  he  shares  the  heartfelt  joy 
Of  giving  thanks  to  God." 


THE    OASIS.  129 


But  beyond  all  these,  God's  gift  of  the 
sabbath  should  be  precious  to  the  working 
world  as  its  main  opportunity  for  moral  ana 
spiritual  improvement,  and  as  its  best  pre- 
parative for  a  happy  immortality.  While 
eternity  is  hastening  apace,  the  exigencies 
of  each  successive  moment  are  banishing 
the  thought  of  it,  and  many  are  surprised 
into  the  great  hereafter  before  they  have 
distinctly  perceived  that  themselves  are  on 
the  road  to  it.  The  sabbath  brings  a  week- 
ly pause,  and  in  its  own  mild  but  earnest 
accents  says  to  each,  Whither  art  thou 
going?  while  its  benignant  hours  invite  the 
pilgrim  of  earth  to  that  better  country  of 
which  it  is  at  once  the  angel  and  the  speci- 
men. The  sabbath  brings  leisure;  it  gives 
a  day  for  thinking  ;  and  it  brings  seclusion. 
From  the  daily  vortex — from  the  crowd 
so  dizzy  and  profane,  it  snatches  the  whirl- 
ing waif — it  pulls  him  aside  into  its  little 
sanctuary,  and  leaves  him  alone  with  God 
On  the  table  of  the  busy  man,  whether  rich 
or  poor,  it  spreads  the  open  Bible,  and 


130  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

wakes  again  the  oracle  which  has  spoken 
the  saving  word  to  thousands.  To  the  in- 
tent and  adoring  eye  it  unveils  that  wondrous 
cross  where  redemption  was  achieved  and 
God  was  reconciled ;  and  by  the  vista  of 
one  radiant  tomb  it  guides  the  musing  spirit 
far  beyond  the  land  of  graves ;  while  per- 
fumed gales  and  Eolian  pulses  from  its 
opened  window  bespeak  the  nearer  heaven, 
and  stir  the  soul  wirh  immortality.  To  the 
man  who  has  got  the  sabbatic  sentiment — 
to  the  man  who  has  received  from  above 
the  spiritual  instinct,  what  a  baptism  of 
strength  and  joy  does  the  Lord's  day  bring! 
From  prayerful  slumber  he  wakes  amid  its 
gentle  light,  and  finds  it  spreading  round 
him  like  a  balm.  There  are  hope  and  com- 
fort in  its  greeting,  and  from  prayerful  re- 
tirement he  joins  his  family  circle  with  peace 
in  his  conscience  and  freshness  in  all  his 
feelings.  The  books  which  he  reads,  and 
the  truths  which  he  hears,  expand  his  in- 
tellect, and  fill  it  with  thoughts  noble,  pure, 
and  heavenly  The  public  worship  gives 


THE    OASIS.  131 


rise,  and  by  giving  outlet,  gives  increase  to 
hallowed  emotions  and  Christian  affections. 
The  psalmody  awakens  gratitude,  cheerful- 
ness, and  praise ;  and  the  comprehensive 
prayers  and  confessions  remind  him  of  evils 
which  he  himself  has  overlooked,  and  perils 
and  temptations  of  which  he  was  not  aware. 
Interceding  for  others,  his  soul  dilates  in 
sympathy  and  public  spirit.  Friends  vague- 
ly remembered  —  friends  long  parted  or  on 
foreign  shores,  and  on  bustling  days  well- 
nigh  forgotten  —  now  join  his  earnest  fel-- 
lowship  ;  and  prayer  hallows  while  it  deep- 
ens ancient  amity.  The  poor,  the  sick, 
the  broken-hearted,  prisoners,  slaves,  the 
whole  family  of  sorrow,  flit  before  the  sup- 
pliant's eye  and  leave  him  with  a  softer 
heart.  And  the  realm  and  its  rulers  recur 
at  this  sacred  moment,  and  every  sentiment 
is  merged  in  loyalty  and  Christian  patriot- 
ism. And  the  heralds  of  salvation,  pastors, 
teachers,  missionaries,  with  all  the  evangel- 
istic agency,  are  recalled  to  mind,  and  while 
his  interest  in  Christ's  cause  becomes  more 


J32 


THE   HAPPY   HOME. 


personal,  his  soul  expands  in  catholicity. 
And,  if  in  a  willing  mood,  from  the  word 
read  and  expounded,  he  carries  home  en- 
lightenment, invigoration,  impulse ;  and  with 
big  emotions,  and  blessed  hopes,  the  sab- 
bath sends  him  forth  on  a  busy  week  and  a 
restless  world,  a  tranquil  presence  and  an 
elevating  power.* 

To  cross  an  eastern  desert  is  often  ardu- 
ous work.  And  as  they  jog  on  their  grunt- 
ing asses,  or  swing  on  their  melancholy 
camels,  —  as  the  sun  pours  his  downright 
embers,  and  shadows  are  projected  short 
and  round,  —  as  the  water-bags  grow  empty, 
and,  for  lack  of  pomegranate  or  citron,  each 
squeezes  in  his  cheek  the  juiciest  pebble 
he  can  find,  the  travellers  are  apt  to  droop 
into  a  moody  silence,  and  lose  all  liking 
for  their  journey.  With  dust  in  every  pore, 
and  fever  in  every  vein,  nobody  cares  for 
his  neighbor,  nor  feels  the  slightest  interest 
in  any  earthly  thing.  And  should  some 

*  The  foregoing  paragraphs  appeared  in  the  North 
British  Review  for  May,  1848. 


Happy  Hume. 


p   133 


THE    OASIS.  133 


sprightly  comrade  still  hold  out,  his  wit  is 
resented  as  rudeness,  and  he  himself  is 
hated  for  his  irksome  glee.  But  presently 
they  glimpse  the  green  banner  in  the  dis- 
tant sky,  the  palm-signal  which  tells  of 
water,  and  verdure,  and  repose.  And  as 
they  reach  the  leafy  tent,  and  fling  them- 
selves on  the  cool  ground,  and  climb  for 
the  date-clusters,  and  through  the  sandy 
filter  scoop  the  hidden  fountain,  their  soul 
is  restored,  and  their  interest  in  all  things 
revives.  Wife  and  children  are  dear  again, 
and  home  is  much  desired  ;  and  as  the  art- 
ist points  his  pencil,  and  the  scholar  takes 
out  his  book,  the  caravan  dissolves  in 
friendly  talk  and  flowing  soul.  And,  reader, 
like  that  desert  route,  your  daily  toil  is  a 
life-wasting  drudgery.  Resumed  morning 
by  morning,  and  followed  hour  by  hour,  it 
drains  the  strength  and  dries  the  soul.  But 
at  the  end  of  every  weekly  march,  behold 
yon  green  OASIS  !  Like  palm-tree  shadow, 
behold  the  welcome  which  the  rest-day 
waves !  And  as  it  bids  you  eat  and  drink 
12 


134  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

abundantly,  do  you  obey  the  genial  sign. 
Turn  in  to  tarry  beneath  the  refreshful 
canopy,  and  you  will  find  the  recompense 
in  a  replenished  heart  and  a  renovated 
home ;  and  as,  full  of  heaven's  peace  and 
strength,  you  issue  from  its  sweet  asylum, 
you  will  resume  life's  journey  rejoicing. 

But  though  we  have  mentioned  the  uses 
of  the  sabbath  first,  we  must  not  forget  its 
obligation.  If  you  have  got  a  healthy 
mind  —  one  conscientious,  and  dutiful,  ana 
right  with  God  —  your  main  question  will 
ever  be,  not,  What  is  for  my  interest?  but 
what  is  right?  what  would  God  have  me 
to  do?  You  will  have  no  fear  but  that 
duty  and  interest  will  in  the  long  run  coin- 
cide ;  still,  you  will  perceive  a  positive  and 
immediate  pleasure  in  obedience  ;  it  will  be 
your  meat  and  drink  to  do  the  will  of  your 
Father  in  heaven.  And  on  this  subject, 
the  will  of  God  is  plain  and  peremptory. 
As  early  as  the  creation  of  the  human  race, 
he  showed  his  purpose  regarding  the  sab- 
bath. "  On  the  seventh  day,  God  onded 


THE    OASIS.  135 


his  work  which  he  had  made ;  and  he 
rested  on  the  seventh  day  from  all  his  work 
which  he  had  made ;  and  God  blessed  the 
seventh  day,  and  sanctified  it ;  because 
that  in  it  he  had  rested  from  all  his  work 
which  God  created  and  made."  And  ac- 
cordingly, when,  in  all  the  pomp  of  Mount 
Sinai,  that  moral  law  was  given  which  has 
ever  since  been  the  great  standard  of  right 
and  wrong,  the  fourth  of  the  ten  command- 
ments was,  "  Remember  the  sabbath-day, 
to  keep  it  holy.  Six  days  shall  thou  labor 
and  do  all  thy  work;  but  the  seventh  day 
is  the  sabbath  of  the  Lord  thy  God:  in  it 
thou  shalt  not  do  any  work,  thou,  nor  thy 
son,  nor  thy  daughter,  thy  man-servant,  nor 
thy  maid-servant,  nor  thy  cattle,  nor  the 
stranger  that  is  within  thy  gates.  For  in  six 
days  the  Lord  made  heaven  and  earth,  the 
sea,  and  all  that  in  them  is,  and  rested  the 
seventh  day:  wherefore  the  Lord  blessed 
the  sabbath-day  and  hallowed  it.  And  all 
through,  from  the  first  book  of  the  Bible  to 
the  last,  we  find  the  primeval  blessing  still 


136  THE    HAPPY   EOME. 

following  the  day,  and  the  people  of  God 
devoutly  keeping  it.  And  perhaps  there 
is  no  command  which  a  special  Providence 
has  more  signally  guarded  —  none,  the  ob- 
servance of  which  God  has  crowned  with 
a  more  abundant  recompense  —  and  none 
of  which  the  violation  has  been  followed 
by  a  swifter  or  sorer  frown.  The  will  of 
God  is  clear ;  the  command  is  plain  and 
full ;  and  it  is  not  easy  to  estimate  his  guilt 
who  tramples  under  foot  an  institution 
clothed  with  such  divine  authority,  and 
fraught  with  such  divine  benignity. 

And  now  the  question  comes  round, 
how  are  we  to  spend  the  day  so  as  to  fulfil 
its  Author's  gracious  purposes? 

Among  sabbatic  employments,  the  most 
obvious  is  the  public  and  private  worship 
of  God.  On  other  days  you  have  little 
time  for  meditation  and  prayer ;  but  on  a 
sabbath  morning  you  have  leisure.  Take 
your  bible,  read  a  portion,  and  think  over 
it.  In  prayer,  try  to  remember  the  sins 
and  errors  of  the  week,  and  ask  pardon  for 


THE    OASIS.  137 


the  Saviour's  sake  ;  and  try  to  recall  your 
recent  mercies,  and,  as  you  reckon  them 
one  by  one,  bless  the  Lord  for  his  benefits. 
And  consider  what  farther  blessings  you 
stand  in  need  of,  and  with  humble  earnest- 
ness implore  them  from  that  munificent 
Giver  who  bestows  so  bounteously,  and 
"  who  upbraideth  not."  And  if  you  have 
a  household,  let  prayer  and  a  passage  of 
God's  word  begin  your  family  day;  and 
then  let  all  resort  to  the  house  of  God  to- 
gether ;  and  when  there,  not  only  should 
you  listen  to  the  messages  and  lessons 
which  God's  minister  brings  you,  but  seek 
to  put  your  whole  heart  into  the  services 
of  prayer  and  praise.  The  thing  which 
has  made  you  sometimes  feel  dull  in  a 
place  of  worship,  was,  that  you  did  not 
worship.  Your  body  was  there,  but  ^our 
mind  was  everywhere.  Pray  that  God 
would  fix  your  thoughts  ;  and  if  you  be 
all  ear  when  the  chapter  is  read  and  the 
seimon  preached,  ail  voice  when  the  psalms 
are  sung,  and  all  heart  when  the  prayers 
13* 


138  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

are  offered,  yov  will  not  weary  at  the  time 
and  the  hallowed  effect  will  follow  you 
home. 

A  great  help  toward  spending  the  Lord's 
day  rightly  is  a  well-selected  library.  From 
a  friend  you  may  borrow  a  good  book,  now 
and  then  ;  but  it  is  desirable  to  have  a  little 
stock  of  your  own.  It  would  be  a  great 
matter  if  you  could  compass  a  book  like 
"Henry's  Commentary,"  or  the  commen- 
tary published  by  the  Tract  society;  for, 
besides  throwing  great  light  on  the  Bible, 
it  would  furnish  you  with  endless  Sunday 
reading.  And  if  you  wish  to  get  solid 
and  extensive  acquaintance  with  sacred 
truth,  you  can  not  do  better  than  master 
"Dwight's  System  of  Theology."  We 
have  known  working  men  who  did  so. 
Boote  like  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and 
"D'Aubigne's  History  of  the  Reforma- 
tion," the  Lives  of  Henry  Martyn,  and 
John  Newton,  and  Colonel  Gardiner, 
«  Abbott's  Young  Christian,"  "  Williams'g 
Missionary  Enterprise  in  the  South  Seas,' 


THE    OASIS.  139 


and  "  MofFat's  Labors  in  Africa,"  —  such 
books  would  be  interesting  to  the  young 
folk,  as  well  as  instructive  to  yourself. 
And  it  would  be  well  to  possess  and  read 
prayerfully  such  books  as  "  Pike's  Persua- 
sives to  Early  Piety,"  and  "  James's  Anx- 
ious Inquirer,"  and  u  Baxter's  Saint's 
Everlasting  Rest."  AH  these  books  have 
been  published  in  cheap  forms ;  and  in 
shops  where  they  sell  books  second-hand, 
you  may  get  the  largest  of  them  for  very 
little  money.  And  the  man  who  has  such 
companions  in  his  house,  and  who  has  any 
real  earnestness  about  his  immortal  soul, 
will  find  ways  and  means  to  spend  profit- 
ably each  returning  sabbath. 

And  in  order  to  make  it  a  cheerful  day 
to  your  children,  you  would  do  well  to 
enter  zealously  into  their  sabbath  employ- 
ments. It  is  likely  that  you  send  them  to 
the  Sunday-school ;  but  the  punctuality 
with  which  they  attend,  and  the  proficiency 
which  they  exhibit  there,  depend  very  much 
on  their  parents.  If  you  invite  them  to 


140  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

repeat  to  you  their  hymns  and  other  les- 
sons—  and  if  they  find  that  diligence  is 
rewarded,  not  only  by  a  teacher's  love,  but 
by  a  father's  smile  —  they  will  ply  their 
tasks  with  new  vivacity.  And,  as  a  reward 
of  good  conduct,  you  might  read  over  to 
them,  or  allow  them  to  read  to  you,  one 
of  the  little  books  they  bring  home.  Chil- 
dren are,  in  general,  fond  of  music ;  and 
you  might  sometimes  spend  half  an  hour 
very  sweetly  in  singing  psalms  or  hymns 
together. 

Addressing  our  industrious  fellow-citi- 
zens, we  can  not  close  without  warning 
them  against  a  twofold  jeopardy,  which 
presently  threatens  the  day  marked  off  by 
God  for  the  laborer's  leisure.  There  is  an 
attempt  on  the  part  of  some  wealthy  men 
to  buy  up  the  sabbath  of  the  poor,  and 
there  is  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  some 
working  men  to  pilfer  the  sabbath  of  their 
fellow-workmen.  Rich  men,  hasting  to  be- 
come still  richer,  are  anxious  to  receive 
their  letters  on  the  Lord's  day;  and  in 


THE   OASIS.  14a 

order  to  save  time  for  business,  they  wish 
to  perform  their  journeys  on  that  day ;  and 
to  increase  the  profits  of  their  investments 
in  railways,  and  steamers,  and  tea-gardens, 
and  rural  taverns,  they  are  anxious  to  create 
among  the  working  classes  a  taste  for  Sun- 
day trips  and  pleasure  parties.  They  bribe 
the  engineer  and  the  letter-carrier ;  and, 
for  the  rich  man's  money,  these  workmen 
barter  their  sabbath  ;  and  they  tempt  the 
town  artisan  and  the  city  shopman,  and, 
for  the  sake  of  the  cheap  excursion  or  the 
merry  ploy,  the  artisan  and  shopman  are 
enticed  to  squander  both  their  money  and 
their  souls. 

On  the  other  hand,  from  improvidence, 
or  indolence,  or  some  other  cause,  the  sab- 
bath morning  finds  many  working  people 
with  no  food  in  their  houses,  and,  going 
out  to  purchase  it,  they  compel  their  fel- 
low-workmen—  the  grocers,  and  butchers, 
and  bakers,  and  their  assistants  —  to  toil  in 
their  service  half  the  sabbath-day ;  while 
other  workmen  hie  awav  to  the  river  or  the 


142  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

railway  station,  and  compel  another  class 
of  their  fellow-workmen  —  sailors,  and  en- 
gine-drivers, and  waiters  in  taverns — to 
toil  till  midnight  in  supplying  them  with 
pleasure.  And  in  this  way,  in  the  capital 
of  the  kingdom,  there  are  20,000  people 
working  in  shops,  and  at  least  as  many 
more  connected  with  public  conveyances 
and  places  of  public  entertainment,  who 
never  know  a  sabbath.  And  where  are 
the  robbers  who  have  wrenched  from  these 
British  citizens  their  birthright  of  a  weekly 
repose?  Who  are  the  tyrants  who  thus 
jrrind  the  faces  of  the  poor?  We  grieve  to 

swer — poor  men  —  working  men. 

Now,  recollecting  that  the  sabbath  is  the 
poor  man's  day  —  that  it  is  the  providen- 
tial bulwark  against  over-production  and 
under-payment  —  that  it  is  the  grand  restor- 
ative of  the  laborer's  wasted  strength  and 
spirits,  and  the  reviver  of  his  domestic 
joys  —  that  it  is,  in  short,  the  palladium  of 
his  present  and  eternal  happiness,  —  and 
recollecting,  farther,  that  if  the  poor  lend  it 


THE    OASIS.  143 


to  one  another,  they  must  soon  sell  it  to 
the  rich,  and  by-and-by  do  seven  days' 
work  for  the  six  days'  pay,  —  we  put  it  to 
yourselves,  if  the  workman  who  makes  a 
merchandise  of  his  sabbath  is  not  a  traitor 
to  his  class?  And,  leaving  religious  con- 
siderations out  of  view,  we  ask  if  the  laborer 
who  spurns  the  filthy  lucre  offered  for  his 
sabbath  hours,  and  who,  perhaps,  sacrifices 
a  good  situation  over  and  above  —  we  ask, 
if,  instead  of  being  jeered  for  his  scruples, 
he  does  not  deserve  the  thanks  of  all  his 
fellows,  as  the  Hampden  or  the  Tell  of 
industrial  freedom? 

So  far  as  the  Sunday  excursion  goes,  the 
workman  forfeits  little  who  does  without  it. 
"  As  it  is  not  all  gold  that  glitters,  neither 
is  it  all  true  pleasure  that  usurps  the  name. 
There  is  a  way  which  seemeth  right  unto 
a  man,  but  the  end  thereof  are  the  ways 
of  death.  Even  in  laughter  the  heart  is 
sorrowful,  and  the  end  of  that  mirth  is 
heaviness.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  mourn- 
ful accents  with  which  a  condemned  crim- 


£44  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

inal,  shortly  before  he  was  executed,  said 
in  my  hearing,  that  his  crimes  began  with 
small  thefts  and  pleasure  excursions  on  the 
Lord's  day."'*  To  us,  no  excursion  is 
pleasure  which  is  not  pleasant  when  ended. | 
But  in  what  does  the  pleasure  of  the  Sun-< 
day  ploy  consist  next  morning?  Is  it  in 
the  choice  friendships  you  have  made,  or 
the  sum  which  you  have  added  to  your 
savings  ?  Is  it  in  the  additional  energy 
which  bulges  in  your  muscles,  and  the  lim- 
pid clearness  with  which  the  stream  of 
thought  and  feeling  flows  ?  Or  is  it  in  the 
great  cairn  which  fills  your  conscience  — 
the  happy  thought  how  much  you  have 
done  for  God  and  for  your  fellow-men  ? 
Or  is  it  in  the  unwonted  neatness  with  which 
your  habitation  smiles  on  your  return,  and 
the  fresh  alacrity  with  which  you  resume 
the  morrow's  task?  "I  lodged,"  says  a 
shrewd  observer,  "  within  a  stone-cast  of 
the  great  Manchester  and  Birmingham  rail- 

*  Dr.  King's  Words  to  the  Working  Classes  on  the 
Sabbath  Question. 


THE    OASIS.  145 


way.  I  could  hear  the  roaring  of  the  trains 
along  the  line,  from  morning  till  near  mid- 
day,  and  during  the  whole  afternoon  ;  and, 
hist  as  the  evening  was  setting  in,  I  saun- 
tered down  to  the  gate  by  which  a  return 
train  was  discharging  its  hundreds  of  pas 
sengers,  fresh  from  the  sabbath  amusements 
of  the  country,  that  I  might  see  how  they 
looked.  There  did  not  seem  much  oi 
enjoyment  about  the  wearied  and  some- 
what draggled  groups  :  they  wore,  on  the 
contrary,  rather  an  unhappy  physiognomy, 
as  if  they  had  missed  spending  the  day 
quite  to  their  minds,  and  were  now  return 
fng,  sad  and  disappointed,  to  the  round  of 
toil  from  which  it  ought  to  have  proved  a 
sweet  interval  of  relief.  A  congregation 
just  dismissed  from  hearing  a  vigorous  dis- 
course, would  have  borne,  to  a  certainty,  a 
more  cheerful  air."* 

Our  reader  has  likely  tried  the  plan  of 
Sunday    diversions    already.      Have    they 
made  you  a  healthier  or  a  happier  man  ? 
*  Hugh  Miller's  First  Impressions  of  England 

13 


146  THE   HAPPY    HOME. 

Have  they  made  you  richer,  or  a  more 
respected  member  of  society?  Or  have 
they  not  consumed  a  large  amount  of  your 
hard-won  earnings,  and  often  sent  you  to 
Monday's  toils  more  weary  than  you  left 
them  on  Saturday  night?  Have  they  nol 
involved  you  with  worthless  and  abandoned 
acquaintances,  and  sometimes  left  on  your 
mind  a  gloomy  foreboding  and  a  guilty 
fear?  And  do  you  never  tremble  to  think 
what  the  end  of  these  things  must  be? 
Many  a  Sunday  trip  has  had  for  its  ter- 
minus the  jail,  the  convict-ship,  the  scaffold. 
Many  a  broken  sabbath  has  been  the  first 
step  in  a  career  which  ended  in  drunken- 
ness, in  theft,  in  murder.  And  every  sab- 
bath-breaker is  going  forward  to  the  bar  of 
God.  Dear  reader,  accept  as  a  timely 
message  these  friendly  lines.  Seek  pardon 
for  the  past,  and,  in  the  Lord's  strength, 
make  trial  of  the  better  way.  For  the  sake 
of  a  peaceful  conscience,  for  the  sake  of  a 
prosperous  week,  for  the  sake  of  a  happy 
home,  for  the  sake  of  an  approving  God, 


THE    OASIS.  147 


"  Remember  the  sabbath-day,  to  keep  it 
holy;"  and  you  will  shortly  prove  the  truth 
of  the  promise,  "  If  thou  turn  away  thy  foot 
from  the  sabbath,  from  doing  thy  pleasure 
on  my  holy  day,  and  call  the  sabbath  a  de- 
light, the  holy  of  the  Lord,  honorable  ;  and 
shalt  honor  him,  not  doing  thine  own  ways, 
nor  finding  thine  own  pleasure,  nor  speak- 
ing thine  own  words :  then  shalt  thou  de- 
light thyself  in  the  Lord,  and  I  will  cause 
thee  to  ride  upon  the  high  places  of  the 
earth,  and  feed  thee  with  the  heritage  of 
Jacob,  thy  father;  for  the  mouth  of  the 
Lord  hath  spoken  it." 


THE  FIRESIDE. 

IN  Southern  Europe  they  have  no  house- 
hold fires ;  but  when  there  is  snow  on  the 
mountains,  or  ice  in  the  wind,  they  get  a 
chafing-dish,  and  comfort  their  toes  with 
glowing  charcoal.  And  in  Russia  and  the 
north,  so  fiercely  blows  the  winter-blast, 
that  they  are  fain  to  defend  themselves 
from  behind  an  intrenchment  of  flues,  and 
stoves,  and  fire-clay  furnaces.  And  it  is 
only  our  own  happy  clime,  so  crisp  in  the 
morning,  and  so  mild  at  the  winter-noon, 
which  rejoices  in  that  glorious  institution, 
the  open  hearth  and  blazing  ingle. 

As  to  the  fuel  or  the  style  of  the  fire- 
place, we  have  no  sectarian  feeling.  The 
old  English  method  is  to  adjust  in  a  vast 
chimney  a  log  of  pine,  with  a  few  support- 
ing fagots ;  and  as  the  flame  leaps,  and 
roars,  and  crackles  on  a  clear  night  in  some 


THE   FIRESIDE.  149 


lofty  banquet-hall,  it  makes  a  right  baronial 
olaze.  In  as  far  as  it  needs  no  grate,  this 
plan  is  rather  economical ;  but  as  it  also 
needs  a  grand  mansion,  with  turrets  on  the 
top  and  an  ancient  forest  round  it,  the 
saving  is  somewhat  counterbalanced.  And 
a  good  fire  may  be  made  by  flanking  a  few 
peats  with  a  lump  of  coke  or  anthracite; 
and  if  it  be  Wales  or  the  Highlands,  and 
if  there  be  rime  on  the  ground  and  frozen 
rooks  on  the  tree,  the  blue  smoke  is  beau- 
tiful, and  the  turfy  odor  delicious.  But  for 
us  in  London,  where  peats  are  as  dear  as 
penny  loaves,  it  is  a  great  satisfaction  to 
know  that  they  yield  a  profusion  of  dust. 
It  was  a  "  bonny"  fire  to  which  King  James 
treated  his  wealthy  subject,  George  Heriot ; 
and  still  "  bonnier,"  in  the  eyes  of  a  needy 
prince,  was  the  fire  with  which  the  gold- 
smith repaid  his  hospitality,  next  morning, 
when  he  fed  the  flame,  not  with  billets  of 
cedar,  but  with  the  king's  "  promises  to 
pay."  And  very  beautiful  is  the  mountain 
of  blazing  splints,  with  a  torch  of  candle- 
13* 


150  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

coal  in  the  front  of  them,  —  like  the  mir- 
rored sun  in  a  golden  temple  of  Peru  — 
such  as  may  be  seen  in  Lanarkshire  or 
Durham,  or  some  other  igneous  paradise, 
flinging  through  all  the  recesses  of  a  mighty 
farm-kitchen  its  wealth  of  revealing  flame. 
But  bonfires  like  these  are  beyond  the 
reach  of  authors  and  readers  on  the  banks 
of  the  Thames  ;  and  therefore  we  set  down 
a  recipe  which  our  wife  acquired  from  our 
younger  brother,  and  which  we  have  often 
found  very  seductive  about  ten  o'clock  at 
night : — 

"  Take  three  or  four  fragments  of  walls- 
end  ;  lay  them  together ;  and  when  thor- 
oughly lighted,  take  the  tongs,  and  place 
tenderly  over  them  all  the  large  cinders 
from  under  the  grate  ;  and  then  over  the 
cinders,  and  layer  by  layer,  shovel  every 
particle  of  ashes,  as  carefully  as  if  it  were 
diamond  dust ;  and  in  half  an  hour  the 
skilful  concrete  will  be  one  huge  and 
ardent  ruby.  Then  talk,  read  or  darn 
stockings ;  and  wonder  which  is  happiest, 


THE   FIRESIDE.  151 


you  or  the  queen."  Besides  greatly  light- 
ening the  dustman's  labors  next  morning, 
this  device  will  be  found  a  great  saving  of 
fuel. 

And  as  for  the  fireplace,  please  your- 
selves. We  have  never  seen  any  which 
we  liked  so  well  as  the  Carron  grate  in  our 
own  nursery,  some  ages  agone.  On  either 
panel  a  cast-metal  shepherd  played  on  a 
cast-metal  pipe ;  and  on  the  shining  hob 
there  often  simmered  a  few  prunes  or  a 
honey  posset,  which  a  kind-hearted  aunt 
had  provided  for  our  frequent  colds ;  and 
in  some  retreat  below  it  a  mouse  had 
found  a  cozy  hermitage,  and  every  time 
that  they  stirred  the  fire  the  mouse  came 
out,  and  then  ran  back  again  as  soon  as  the 
pother  was  over.  We  often  wonder  what 
has  become  of  the  grate  and  the  mouse : 
we  know  too  well  what  has  become  of  the 
nursery. 

But,  after  all,  the  charm  of  an  English 
hearth  is  neither  polished  bars  nor  blazing 
brands,  but  the  true  and  loving  faces  which 


152  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

it  shines  upon.  Its  charm  is  the  conjugal 
affection,  the  parental  hope,  the  filial  piety, 
the  neighborly  good-will,  which  cluster 
round  it  and  form  THE  FIRESIDE. 

Judging,  however,  by  hints  which  we 
have  occasionally  received  —  chiefly  from 
our  lady  readers  —  there  is  room  for  im- 
provement in  many  of  the  "  Homes  of 
England."  We  will  not  betake  ourselves 
to  the  indolent  subterfuge  of  saying  that 
there  are  faults  on  either  side ;  but  shall 
let  our  fair  correspondents  speak  for  them- 
selves, and  shall  then  offer  a  few  sug- 
gestions for  the  good  of  our  readers  in 
general. 

"  TO  MR.  HAPPY  HOME. 

"  SIR  :  If  you  wish  your  paper  to  be  of 
any  use,  you  must  come  nearer  the  point. 
Hitherto  I  consider  it  a  perfect  failure,  and 
without  it  improves  very  much  I  shall  give 
up  taking  it  in.  I  wish  you  would  speak 
to  my  husband.  Tell  him  that  a  woman, 
can  no.  always  be  cleaning  of  a  house,  if 


THE    FIRESIDE.  153 


as  soon  as  the  mop  is  out  of  her  hand,  a 
great  boor  comes  tramping  up  stairs,  with 
all  Holborn  sticking  to  his  heels.  Tell 
him  that  it  is  time  for  him  to  he  doing 
something  better  for  his  family.  I  have 
heard  of  bricklayers  who  became  master- 
builders  in  no  time  ;  and  I  certainly  did 
not  expect  that  my  husband  should  be 
wearing  a  leather  apron  up  to  this  pre- 
cious time  of  day.  And  if  he  does  not 
wish  me  to  become  a  perfect  fright,  tell 
him  to  get  me  a  new  bonnet. 

"  I  am,  yours,  &c., 
"  CATHARINA  CRUMPET  CAYENNE." 

"  SIR,  my  husband  Is  a  bruit,  he  keps  a 
keb.  he  takes  car  to  feed  his  horse,  and  to 
get  a  good  diner  for  himself,  but  he  leaves 
me  Without  enuf  to  by  a  morsle.  now, 
sir,  i  takes  verry  bad  with  this,  for  i  been 
a  Cook  and  always  yused  to  my  wittles 
kumfortabal  Before  i  marry  this  Great  bear. 
"  BETSEY  CAPERS." 


154  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 


"  SIR  :  Five  years  ago  I  was  one  of  the 
happiest  women  in  England,  for  I  was  then 
united  to  one  who  loved  me,  and  of  whose 
affection  I  was  proud.  And  though  I  know 
that  I  was  very  imperfect,  yet,  for  Robert's 
sake,  I  was  constantly  striving  to  improve. 
It  was  all  my  pleasure  to  hear  St.  Pancras 
strike  six,  for  then  I  knew  that  a  few  min- 
utes would  bring  him  home,  and  the  room 
would  be  tidy,  and  the  kettle  would  be 
singing,  and  something  would  be  ready  for 
Robert  to  look  at,  or  something  that  needed 
his  help  before  it  could  be  finished.  And 
he  was  always  so  handy :  in  those  evening 
hours  he  made  the  cradle  for  our  little  boy, 
and  a  green-painted  Venetian  to  keep  out 
the  sun  at  our  southern  window.  And 
many  a  beautiful  book  have  we  gone 
through,  reading  it  aloud  by  turns.  But, 
for  a  good  while  past,  a  change  has  come 
over  my  dear  husband.  He  has  not  taken 
to  drinking,  or  anything  really  bad ;  but  he 
has  got  so  fond  of  politics.  He  is  a  fine 
scholar  and  an  orator ;  and  at  first  I  was 


THE   FIRESIDE.  155 


vain  to  think  that  the  club  could  not  do 
without  him.  But  I  must  now  confess,  sir, 
that  it  takes  up  all  his  thoughts.  He  has 
not  the  same  spirit  for  his  work,  and  I  have 
very  little  of  his  company.  Last  night  he 
came  in  for  his  tea  in  a  sad  hurry,  and 
swallowed  it  without  speaking  a  word,  for 
he  was  engaged  to  one  of  these  meetings. 
And  I  fear  that  I  looked  cross,  for,  as  he 
put  on  his  hat,  he  spoke  to  me  in  a  way 
that  my  Robert  never  spoke  to  me  before. 
Tell  him,  dear  sir,  that  I  was  not  sulking: 
I  was  thinking  of  our  happy  evenings,  and 
how  he  might  now  be  giving  a  lesson  to 
our  little  George.  And  tell  him,  that  if  he 
will  only  give  his  wife  some  of  those  sweet 
hours  he  did  not  use  to  grudge,  she  will 
strive  to  deserve  them  better.  I  am  not 
clever  enough  to  understand,  as  he  does,  the 
affairs  of  the  nation,  but  I  quite  agree  with 
him  in  wishing  all  to  be  free  and  happy. 

"  Excuse  me  for  not  giving  my  name  ;  but 
allow  me  to  subscribe  myself,  yours  respect- 
fully, "  A  KEEPER  AT  HOME." 


156  THE   HAPPY  HOME, 

It  is  the  difficult  task  of  the  workman's 
wife  to  make  the  fireside  an  attractive  and 
improving  place  —  a  place  round  which 
husbands  and  sons  will  be  glad  to  gather 
when  the  work  of  the  day  is  done.  And 
in  attempting  this,  you  may  possibly  find 
assistance  in  the  following  hints  : — 

1.  Be  tidy. — Some  wives,  who  are  suf- 
ficiently industrious,  have  no  talent  for  neat- 
ness. They  are  constantly  scrubbing  and 
scouring,  and  they  keep  chairs  and  tables 
marching  and  counter-marching  from  one 
apartment  to  another ;  but,  except  the  tur- 
moil at  the  time,  and  the  humid  exhalations 
afterward,  there  are  no  products  of  their 
ill-directed  energy;  in  a  day  or  two,  all  is 
the  same  dirt  and  disorder  as  ever.  Oth- 
ers, you  do  not  know  when  their  house- 
cleaning  is  done,  for  you  never  find  them 
worried  and  in  dishabille ;  but,  somehow, 
their  furniture  always  finds  its  proper  place  ; 
their  hearth  is  always  bright,  and  a  limpid 
daylight  always  looks  in  at  their  unsullied 
window. 


THE   FIRESIDE.  157 


Few  things  are  more  apt  to  send  a  rnaii 
to  the  playhouse  or  tavern,  than  a  filthy  or 
uproarious  fireside.  When  he  comes  home 
in  the  evening,  and  finds  his  apartment  a 
chaos  of  frowzy  garments,  and  broken  dish- 
es, and  potato  parings,  and  squalling  chil- 
dren; or  a  laundry  steaming  with  wet  linen, 
and  fragrant  with  soap-suds,  he  is  very  apt 
to  light  his  pipe  and  sally  forth  in  search 
of  a  more  cheerful  scene.  And,  therefore, 
every  woman  who  would  save  her  hir^and 
from  the  gin-shop  and  bad  company,  should 
contrive  to  get  all  her  bustle  and  rough 
work  completed  betimes,  and  have  a  trim 
and  smiling  chamber  awaiting  his  return.* 

2.  Be  thrifty.  —  The  picture  of  an  indus- 
trious and  frugal  housewife  was  sketched 

*  There  are  now  wash-houses  provided  in  many  places, 
where,  for  a  payment  of  twopence  or  threepence,  an  ac- 
tive woman  may  do  all  the  washing  of  an  ordinary  fam- 
ily in  a  few  hours.  Hot  water,  drying  apparatus,  smooth- 
ing irons,  and  a  mangle  are  provided  ;  and  besides  all  the 
economy  of  time  and  money,  the  linen  is  dried  without 
being  soiled,  and  your  own  abode  is  saved  the  horrors 
of  the  weekly  ablation. 

14 


158  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

by  an  inspired  pencil  long  ago,  and  many 
a  Scotch  and  English  matron  might  be 
quoted  who  has  gone  far  to  repeat  the 
original.  "  Who  can  find  a  virtuous  wom- 
an ?  for  her  price  is  far  above  rubies.  The 
heart  of  her  husband  doth  safely  trust  in 
her,  so  that  he  shall  have  no  need  of  spoil. 
She  seeketh  wool  and  flax,  and  worketh 
willingly  with  her  hands.  She  girdeth  her 
loins  with  strength,  and  strengtheneth  her 
arms.  She  layeth  her  hands  to  the  spindle, 
and  her  hands  hold  the  distaff.  She  is  not 
afraid  of  the  snow  for  her  household  ;  for 
all  her  household  are  doubly  clothed.  Her 
husband  is  known  in  the  gates,  when  he 
sitteth  among  the  elders  of  the  land.  She 
openeth  her  mouth  with  wisdom ;  and  in 
her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kindness.  She 
looketh  well  to  the  ways  of  her  household, 
and  eateth  not  the  bread  of  idleness.  Her 
children  arise  up  and  call  her  blessed;  her 
husband  also,  and  he  praiseth  her.  Many 
daughters  have  done  virtuously,  but  thou 
excellest  them  all.  Favor  is  deceitful,  and 


THE    FIRESIDE.  159 


beauty  is  vain  ;  but  a  woman  that  feareth 
the  Lord  she  shall  be  praised."* 

A  man  may  work  ever  so  hard  ;  but,  if 
his  wife  be  not  a  good  manager,  no  money 
will  preserve  his  children  from  rags,  nor  his 
abode  from  wretchedness.  And  if,  after  all 
his  earnings,  he  comes  home  to  a  joyless 
lodging ;  if,  before  he  can  obtain  his  sup- 
per, he  has  to  go  in  search  of  his  gossiping 
helpmeet,  and  by  the  way  picks  from  the 
gutter  his  tattered  son  and  heir;  if  he  finds 
that  his  wife  is  too  fine  a  lady  to  handle  the 
broom  or  the  needle  ;  if  he  is  ashamed  when 
a  neighbor  drops  in,  or  if,  for  want  of  a  time- 
ly stitch,  he  himself  can  scarcely  venture 
out,  he  is  sure  to  grow  abject  or  broken- 
hearted. He  perceives  that  it  is  of  little 
moment  whether,  at  the  end  of  the  week, 
he  brings  home  half-a-sovereign  or  half-a- 
crown,  and  sees  no  use  in  procuring  gay 
dresses  and  bright  ribands,  which  omy 
render  more  grotesque  the  scare-crows 
around  him.  On  the  other  hand,  he  must 

*  Proverbs  xxxL 


160  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

be  a  mean-spirited  mortal  who  can  see  the 
wife  of  his  youth  toiling  and  striving  to  se 
cure  respectability  and  comfort  for  himself 
and  his  household,  without  straining  hig 
every  nerve  to  help  her.  A  savage  may  be 
content  to  bask  in  the  sunshine,  and  look 
on  while  the  mother  of  his  children  is 
catching  fish  or  planting  yams;  but  in  Eng- 
land we  trust  there  are  few  of  these  lazy 
churls.  And  we  have  known  of  instances 
not  a  few  where  a  man  has  been  reclaimed 
from  idle  or  self-indulgent  habits  by  the  in- 
fluence of  a  judicious  and  warm-hearted 
wife.  The  following  is  an  instance,  which 
we  the  more  gladly  give,  because  it  occurred 
in  the  sister  isle  :  — 

"  One  day,"  says  Mrs.  Hall,  "  we  en- 
tered a  cottage  in  the  suburbs  of  Cork:  a 
young  woman  was  knitting  stockings  at  the 
door.  It  was  as  neat  and  comfortable  as 
any  in  the  most  prosperous  districts  of  Eng- 
land. We  tell  her  brief  story  in  her  own 
words,  as  nearly  as  we  can  recall  them  : 

"  c  My  husband  is  a  wheelwright,   and 


THE   FIRESIDE.  161 


always  earns  his  guinea  a  week ;  he  was  a 
good  workman,  but  the  love  of  drink  was 
so  strong  in  him,  and  it  wasn't  often  he 
brought  me  more  than  five  shillings  out  of 
his  one  pound  on  a  Saturday  night,  and  it 
broke  my  heart  to  see  the  children  too 
ragged  to  send  to  school,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  starved  look  they  had,  out  of  the  little 
I  could  give  them.  Well,  God  be  praised, 
he  took  the  pledge,  and  the  next  Sunday  he 
laid  twenty-one  shillings  upon  the  chair  you 
sit  upon  !  Oh,  didn't  I  give  thanks  upon 
my  bended  knees  that  night ! 

"  '  Still  I  was  fearful  it  would  not  last, 
and  I  spent  no  more  than  the  five  shillings 
I  used  to,  saying  to  myself,  May  be  the 
money  will  be  more  wanted  than  it  is  now ! 
Well,  the  next  week  he  brought  me  the 
same,  and  the  next,  and  the  next,  until  eight 
weeks  had  passed  ;  and,  glory  to  God,  there 
was  no  change  for  the  bad  in  my  husband ! 
and  all  the  while  he  never  asked  rne  why 
there  was  nothing  better  for  him  out  of  his 
earnings.  So  I  felt  there  was  no  fear  foi 
14* 


162  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

him,  and  the  ninth  week,  when  he  came 
home  to  me,  I  had  this  table  and  these  six 
chairs,  one  for  myself,  four  for  the  children, 
and  one  for  him  ;  and  I  was  dressed  in  a 
new  gown,  and  the  children  all  had  new 
clothes  and  shoes  and  stockings,  and  upon 
his  chair  I  put  a  bran  new  suit,  and  upon 
his  plate,  I  put  the  bill  and  receipt  for  them 
all,  just  the  eight  sixteen  shillings,  the  cost 
that  I'd  saved  out  of  his  wages,  not  know- 
ing what  might  happen,  and  that  always  went 
for  drink.  And  he  cried,  good  lady  and  gen- 
tleman, he  cried  like  a  baby,  but  'twas  with 
thanks  to  God  ;  and  now  where's  a  healthier 
man  than  my  husband  in  the  whole  county 
of  Cork,  or  a  happier  wife  than  myself,  or 
decenter  or  better  fed  children  than  my 
own?'" 

3.  Keep  a  good  temper. — Nothing  can  be 
more  vexatious  than  a  smoky  fireside.  A 
cold  wind  is  sifting  through  the  passage,  and 
a  handful  of  moist  brushwood  is  sputtering 
under  the  coals,  and  just  when  you  hope 
that  it  is  about  to  kindle,  a  black  tornado 


THE   FIRESIDE.  163 


comes  whirling  down  the  vent,  and,  as  sooty 
flakes  and  Egyptian  darkness  fill  the  air, 
eyes  water,  nostrils  tingle,  the  baby  screams, 
grandmother  coughs,  the  sash  flies  open, 
Boreas  enters,  and  the  cat  disgusted  leaves 
the  room.  And  like  that  smoking  chimney 
is  the  house  whose  presiding  genius  is  swift 
to  wrath,  or  sullen.  Jaded  with  work,  or 
harassed  by  the  day's  cross  accidents  ;  often 
drenched  in  the  rain,  or  draggled  by  the 
world's  rough  usage,  the  man  of  toil  wends 
homeward.  "  Ha,  ha  !"  he  says,  "  I  shall 
soon  be  warm  :  I  shall  see  the  fire."  But, 
alas !  the  fuel  is  green,  and  the  chimney 
does  not  draw.  Displeased  by  some  un- 
toward incident,  or  in  a  fretful  humor,  his 
yoke-fellow  receives  him  with  reproaches, 
or  a  frown,  or  treats  him  to  long  and  troub- 
lous stories  ;  and  instead  of  the  bright  solace 
and  glowing  comfort,  on  which  he  vainly 
counted,  he  watches  the  smouldering  wrath 
and  its  swelling  puffs,  till,  in  despair,  he 
flings  down  the  bellows,  and  rushes  into  the 
smokeless  tempest  out  of  doors. 


164  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

No  doubt  a  wife  has  many  things  to  vex 
her.  Your  work  is  hard.  Your  cares  are 
many.  You  have  a  host  of  things  to  man- 
age ;  things  so  minute  that  you  are  not 
thanked  if  they  all  go  right,  but  at  the  same 
time  so  weighty  that  you  are  exceedingly 
upbraided  if  the  least  of  them  goes  wrong. 
And  when  your  foot  is  on  the  cradle,  and 
the  saucepan  is  boiling  over,  and  the  last 
torn  garment  engages  either  hand,  a  hungry 
boy  or  an  impatient  husband  rushes  in  shout- 
ing for  his  dinner  and  a  dozen  other  things 
directly.  And  in  the  midst  of  all  that  worry, 
nothing  is  so  natural  as  to  fume  and  scold 
and  lose  your  temper ;  but  in  the  midst  of 
all  that  worry,  nothing  were  so  noble  as  to 
remain  serene,  and  self-possessed,  and 
cheerful.  And  if  you  seek  help  from  God, 
he  will  enable  you  to  possess  your  soul  in 
patience.  He  can  give  you  peace  and 
sprightliness,  and  make  you  the  ventilator 
of  the  smoky  chamber.  Amid  surrounding 
tumult,  he  can  supply  you  with  soft  words 
and  gentle  looks,  and,  like  the  bird  of  fable, 


THE   FIRESIDE.  165 


make  your  very  presence  the  antidote  of 
storms.  He  can  give  you  that  cheerful 
countenance  which  doeth  good  like  a  medi- 
cine—  a  medicine  which,  if  it  does  the 
patient  good,  does  still  more  good  to  those  by 
whom  it  is  administered. 

4.  Cultivate  personal  piety. — It  is  a  great 
matter  for  a  wife  and  a  mother  to  be  intel- 
ligent and  well-informed  ;  for  without  this 
she  can  riot  exert  a  lasting  ascendency  over 
her  children,  nor  be  the  fit  associate  of  a 
thoughtful  and  strong-minded  husband.  But 
more  important  than  a  cultivated  understand- 
ing is  a  sanctified  heart.  Of  all  possessions 
the  most  permanent,  it  is  of  all  influences 
the  most  powerful;  for  even  those  who  hate 
it  most  bitterly  are  constrained  to  yield  it  a 
constant  though  reluctant  homage.  Does 
any  matter  cause  you  grief?  Like  Hannah, 
that  "  woman  of  a  sorrowful  spirit,"  lay  it 
before  the  Lord,  and  your  countenance  will 
DC  no  more  sad.  Does  any  course  of  con- 
duct perplex  you  ?  "  In  all  thy  ways  ac- 
knowledge Him,  and  He  will  direct  thy 


166  THE   HAP1Y    HOME. 

steps."  Is  any  undertaking  completed  and 
can  you  personally  do  no  more  in  ord«;r  to 
promote  it  ?  "  Commit  thy  works  unto  the 
Lord,  and  thy  thoughts  shall  be  establish- 
ed." Do  you  wish  to  be  blameless  in  your 
personal  demeanor  and  thorough  in  domes- 
tic duties?  Take  for  your  guide  the  Word 
of  God  ;  and  "  when  thou  goest  it  shall 
lead  thee  ;  when  thou  sleepest  it  shall  keep 
thee  ;  and  when  thou  awakest  it  shall  talk 
with  thee."  Are  you  anxious  to  prepossess 
in  favor  of  piety  the  mind  of  your  partner  9 
Then  "  be  in  subjection  to  your  own  hus- 
band; that  if  any  obey  not  the  Word,  they 
also  may  without  the  Word  be  won  by  the 
conversation  of  the  wives ;  while  they  be- 
hold your  chaste  conversation  coupled  with 
fear  (that  is,  your  modest  and  respectful 
demeanor).  And  let  your  adorning  be,  not 
that  outward  adorning  of  plaiting  the  hair, 
and  of  wearing  of  gold,  or  of  putting  on 
of  apparel ;  but  let  it  be  the  ornament  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which  is  in  the  sight 
of  God  of  great  price." 


THE    ILNEAi'^AJUKD   GKEET1MG. 
Happy  Home.  P-  161 


THE   FIRESIDE.  167 


Of  all  your  duties  the  most  arduous  is  the 
right  training  of  your  offspring.  It  is  a  duty 
which  mainly  devolves  on  you.  Of  all 
others,  a  mother  is  most  constantly  with  her 
children,  and  of  all  influences  her  teaching, 
her  example,  and  her  prayers,  are  the  like- 
liest to  decide  their  future  character. 

Last  summer  a  famous  German  writer 
died.  His  young  days  were  the  winter  of 
his  life;  for,  when  a  few  weeks  old  he  had 
lost  his  mother,  and  in  all  his  rude  tossings 
from  place  to  place  he  had  fallen  in  with  no 
kind  welcomes  nor  any  gentle  words.  But 
somehow  he  contrived  to  get  to  college,  and 
was  cramming  his  mind  with  such  dry  learn- 
ing as  colleges  can  give,  when  one  stormy 
night  in  the  Christmas  recess,  he  stopped 
at  a  country  inn.  "  As  I  entered  the  par- 
lor darkened  by  the  evening  twilight,  I  was 
suddenly  wrapped  in  an  unexpected  em- 
brace, while  amid  showers  of  tears  and  kis- 
ses I  heard  these  words,  '  Oh !  my  child 
—  my  dear  child!'  Though  I  knew  that 
this  greeting  was  not  for  me,  yet  the  mother- 


168  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

ly  pressure  seemed  to  me  the  herald  of  bet- 
ter days,  the  beautiful  welcome  to  a  new 
and  better  world,  and  a  sweet  trembling 
passed  over  me.  As  soon  as  lighted  can- 
dles came  in,  the  illusion  vanished.  The 
modest  hostess  started  from  me  in  some 
consternation ;  then  looking  at  rue  with 
smiling  embarrassment,  she  told  me  that  my 
height  exactly  corresponded  to  that  of  her 
son,  whom  she  expected  home  that  night 
from  a  distant  school.  As  he  did  not  arrive 
that  night  she  tended  and  served  me  with  a 
loving  cordiality,  as  if  to  make  amends  to 
herself  for  the  disappointment  of  his  ab- 
sence. The  dainties  which  she  had  pre- 
pared for  him  she  bestowed  on  me,  and 
next  morning  she  packed  up  a  supply  of 
provisions,  procured  me  a  place  in  the  dili- 
gence, wrapped  me  up  carefully  against 
frost  and  rain,  and  refusing  to  impoverish 
my  scanty  purse  by  taking  any  payment, 
dismissed  me  with  tender  admonitions  and 
motherly  farewells.  Yet  all  this  kindness 
was  bestowed,  not  on  me,  but  on  the  image 


THE   FIRESIDE.  169 

of  her  absent  son !  Such  is  a  mother's 
heart!  lean  not  describe  the  feelings  with 
which  I  left  the  village.  My  whole  being 
was  in  a  strange  delicious  confusion."  And 
in  point  of  fact  that  motherly  embrace  had 
opened  in  the  bosom  of  the  orphan  boy  the 
fountain  of  pleasant  fancies  and  noble  feelings 
which  have  rendered  Henry  Zchokke  the 
most  popular  story-writer,  and  one  of  the 
truest  patriots,  in  all  his  fatherland.  It  was 
the  only  night  when  he  had  ever  known  a 
home,  and  from  that  brief  hour  he  carried 
enough  away  to  give  a  friendly  aspect  to 
mankind,  and  a  joyful  purpose  to  his  future 
life. 

And,  like  the  kind  hostess,  your  own 
heart  is  full  of  motherly  affection.  Let  it 
freely  forth.  Let  your  children  feel  how 
fondly  you  yearn  toward  them,  and  what  a 
delight  it  is  to  you  to  see  and  make  them 
happy.  This  affection  is  a  logic  which  the 
dullest  can  understand,  and  it  will  insure 
the  swiftest  compliance  with  your  wishes. 
15 


170  THE   HAPPY    HOME. 

This  cord  of  love  is  of  all  chains  the  longes* 
lasting;  the  most  vicious  can  not  break  it, 
and  even  when  you  yourself  are  mouldering 
in  the  clay  it  will  moor  the  wayward  spirit 
to  your  memory,  and  keep  it  from  much 
sin.  Therefore,  see  to  it — not  only  that 
you  love  them,  but  that  you  make  them 
conscious  of  your  lovingness. 

And  then,  by  the  attraction  of  your  own 
tenderness,  seek  to  draw  them  into  the  love 
of  God.  If  your  own  be  the  right  religion, 
the  living  God  will  be  your  chiefest  joy. 
You  will  look  up  to  him  as  your  father  and 
friend,  and  will  desire  to  move  through  your 
dwelling  and  travel  through  the  world  in  the 
light  of  his  constant  complacency.  And  if 
you  have  got  this  length  —  if  through  the 
great  Atonement  you  have  got  into  the  peace 
of  God  —  there  will  be  Bible  lessons  in  all 
you  do,  and  a  living  gospel  in  your  gentle 
looks.  Your  children  will  perceive  that  to 
love  God  is  the  true  way  to  be  happy,  and 
whatever  else  it  may  accomplish,  they  will 
learn  to  associate  the  religion  of  Jesus  with 


THE   FIRESIDE. 


a  dear  parent's  shining  face  and  blame  ess 
walk. 

But,  after  all,  if  you  wish  to  exert  a  hal- 
lowing influence  on  your  children  now,  and 
if  you  would  see  them  give  themselves  to 
God  in  the  dew  of  their  youth,  you  must 
abound  in  prayer  as  your  surest  and  most 
unfailing  resource.  We  speak  of  adamant 
and  other  substances  as  hard  to  fuse  :  we 
forget  that  the  hardest  of  all  is  human  will. 
To  bring  the  will  of  your  little  child  to  the 
bending  or  melting  point,  needs  a  softening 
power  none  other  than  the  grace  of  God. 
We  speak  of  Jocks  which  are  hard  to  open; 
we  forget  that  the  most  intricate  of  all  is  the 

o 

heart  of  man.  It  has  wards  and  windings 
into  which  even  a  mother's  love  can  not  in- 
sinuate, and  of  which  God's  spirit  only 
knows  the  way.  And  wherefore  is  it  that 
God  has  given  you  this  vehement  solicitude 
for  your  children's  souls,  while  at  the  same 
time  he  shows  you  that  you  can  not  there 
introduce  the  truths  which  you  love,  nor 
there  enshrine  the  Saviour  whom  you  your- 


172  THE    HAPPY    HUME. 

self  adore  ?  Wherefore,  but  to  shut  you 
up  in  lowly  dependence  and  earnest  expec- 
tancy to  Him  who  hath  the  key  of  David, 
and  who,  when  his  set  time  comes,  will 
open  the  door  and  take  conclusive  posses- 
sion ?  And  surely,  among  all  the  suppli- 
cations which  reach  the  mercy-seat,  there 
is  none  more  welcome  than  the  cry  of  a  be- 
lieving parent  for  her  darling  child.  Sure- 
ly, there  is  none  which  the  great  High  Priest 
will  present  with  a  more  gracious  alacrity, 
or  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
hear  with  a  more  divine  benignity.  And 
of  all  the  petitions  filed  in  the  court  of 
heaven,  there  is  surely  none  less  likely  to 
be  forgotten,  nor  one  which,  should  you 
meanwhile  quit  this  praying-ground,  you 
may  leave  more  confidently  to  the  care 
and  love  of  your  Advocate  within  the  vail. 
But  by  far  the  happiest  home  is  that  whose 
heads,  like  Zacharias  and  Elisabeth,  are  of 
one  mind,  and  who  walk  in  the  statutes  and 
ordinances  of  God  together.  In  that  case, 
you  will  be  able  to  take  counsel  together, 


THE    FIRESIDE.  173 


and  aid  one  another  in  the  anxious  business 
of  teaching  and  training  your  children. 
Four  prayers  on  their  behalf  will  ascend  in 
concert.  The  example  of  the  one  will  not 
neutralize  the  instructions  of  the  other  ;  and 
whichsoever  is  first  summoned  away  will 
have  the  comfort  of  knowing  that  the  work 
will  not  stop  when  their  teacher  dies. 

Having,  therefore,  said  so  much  to  wives 
and  mothers,  we  may  perhaps  be  allowed, 
ere  closing  this  number,  to  offer  a  few 
friendly  hints  to  fathers  and  husbands.  But 
what  better  hints  can  we  tender  than  the 
plain  directions  given  in  the  Bible  long 
ago? 

That  Bible  bids  married  people  be  mu- 
tually respectful.  It  requires  the  wife  to 
"  reverence  her  husband,"  and  the  husband 
is  enjoined  to  "  give  honor  to  the  wife." 
One  day,  when  Oberlin  was  eighty  years 
of  age,  in  climbing  a  mountain  he  was 
obliged  to  lean  on  his  son-in-law,  while  his 
wife,  less  infirm,  walked  behind  by  herself. 
But,  meeting  some  of  his  parishioners,  the 
15* 


174  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

good  pastor  felt  so  awkward  at  this  appa- 
rent lack  of  gallantry,  that  he  stopped  to 
explain  the  reason.  Was  it  not  a  fine 
feature  in  the  old  worthy's  character,  and 
would  it  not  be  well  for  the  world  if  it  con- 
tained more  of  this  Christian  chivalry? 
Would  it  not  be  well  if  it  contained  more 
of  those  hallowed  unions,  where  people 
see  to  the  last  with  the  same  admiring  and 
affectionate  eyes  with  which  they  first 
learned  to  love  one  another?  And  would 
there  not  be  more  of  these  unions  if  people 
learned  to  love  one  another  "  in  the  Lord" — 
if  the  attachment  which  originated  in  good 
sense,  and  congenial  taste,  and  moral  worth, 
were  perpetuated  in  Christian  principle? 
Piety  softens  the  feelings  and  refines  the 
sentiments.  It  renders  it's  possessor  "  cour- 
teous and  kindly  affectioned."  And  of 
that  courtesy  and  kind  affection,  who  is 
the  rightful  object,  if  it  be  not  his  nearest 
earthly  friend  ? 

On  a  Saturday  niglt  you  may  have  no- 
ticed a  firm-built  fellow  stalking  along,  with 


THE    FIRESIDE.  175 


his  pipe  in  his  cheek  and  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  while  a  forlorn  creature  limped  after 
him,  shifting  from  one  tired  arm  to  another 
the  laden  market-basket.  And  in  choosing 
a  companion  for  life,  you  were  sorry  that 
the  lazy  rascal  had  not  thought  of  a  donkey. 
But  you  spent  the  next  hour  with  a  shop- 
mate  in  his  own  abode;  and  whether  it 
were  to  display  the  meekness  of  his  wan 
and  timid  consort,  or  to  give  you  an  august 
idea  of  himself  as  a  lord  of  creation,  you 
can  not  tell ;  but  he  always  spoke  to  her 
with  such  fierce  contempt  and  vengeful  bit- 
terness, that  you  felt,  Happy  cobbler's  lap- 
stone  !  Happy  torn  slipper,  adorning  but 
not  confining  that  cobbler's  fantastic  toe  ! 
Happy  target  on  which  the  steam-gun  flat- 
tens fifty  balls  per  minute  !  Happy  anvil 
on  which  Vulcan  repaired  old  thunderbolts ! 
Happy  all  the  things  which  people  thump 
and  thwack  and  tread  upon  !  Happier  than 
helpless  woman  with  feelings  thus  down- 
trampled  !  Happier  than  the  wife  whose 
weary  lot  it  is  to  be  the  anvil  of  an  angry 


176  THE    HAPFY    HOME. 

temper,  the  target  of  a  fiery  tongue  !  Yea, 
happier  she  who,  like  Indian  squaw,  lugs 
at  her  master's  heels  the  heavy  load,  her- 
self the  truck  and  dray  —  the  porter  and 
parcel-van  ! 

It  filled  you  with  burning  indignation ; 
and  we  esteem  you  none  the  less  for  that 
manly  shame.  It  assures  us  that,  in  your 
own  dwelling,  we  shall  not  find  you  the 
cold-hearted  or  coarse-minded  despot ;  and 
it  tells  us  that  you  are  blessed  with  a  part- 
ner whom  you  are  proud  "  to  have  and 
to  hold,  to  love  and  to  cherish."  "  Oh, 
well  is  thee,  and  happy  shalt  thou  be." 
Happy  are  you  to  retain  the  refinement  and 
elevation  of  character,  and  the  youthful- 
ness  of  affection,  which  make  the  husband 
still  the  lover ;  and  happy  are  you  to  have 
a  wife  so  true,  and  wise,  and  self-denied, 
that  to  care  for  her  comfort  and  share  her 
society  are  still  as  delightful  as  when  first 
she  gave  you  her  troth. 

And  yet,  dear  sirs,  how  hard  it  is  to  reach 
the  Bible  standard  of  conjugal  devoted- 


THE    FIRESIDE.  177 


ness  !      So  lofty   is   that  standard,  that  it 
seems  fitter  for  a  pulpit  text  than  for  quota- 
tion in  this  familiar  paper.  "  Husbands,  love 
your  wives,  even  as  Christ  loved  the  church, 
and  gave  himself  for  it,  that  he  might  sanc- 
tify it,  and  present  it  to  himself  a  glorious 
church,  not  having  spot  or  wrinkle,  or  any 
such  thing ;  but  that  it  should  be  holy  and 
without  blemish."      Think   of  this.     The 
Saviour  loved  the  church  in  order  to  make 
it  holy.     His  love  was  not  only  self-sacri- 
ficing, but  it  was  hallowing.     Its  tendency 
and  effect  were  to  make  its  objects  better. 
And  those  who  are  joined  in  your  sacred 
relation  are  to  take  this  divine  example  as 
the  model  of  their  love.     You  must  seek 
the    improvement  of  one    another.      The 
consciousness  of  sins  and  defects  in  his  dis- 
ciples did  not  cool  toward  them  the  Saviour's 
affection.     It  only  excited  his  tender  saga- 
city and  faithful  skill  to  attempt  their  remo- 
val ;  and  by  gracious  methods,  one  by  one, 
he  cured  their  infirmities.     There  was  no 
arrogance  in   his  tone,  no   disdain   in    his 


178  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

spirit ;  no  haste  nor  vexation  in  his  man- 
ner ;  but  so  mollifying  was  his  gentleness, 
and  so  mild  was  his  sanctity,  that  when  he 
healed  the  fault  he  did  not  hurt  the  feelings. 
And  had  we  something  of  his  high  purpose, 
there  would  be  little  danger  of  affection  de- 

o 

caying.  There  would  be  no  risk  of  fault- 
finding, and  no  temptation  to  connive  at 
sin.  Reproofs  would  not  break  the  head  ; 
and  there  would  be  no  longer  need  that  love 
should  be  blind. 

And  let  us  hope  that  you  will  contribute 
a  father's  authority  to  a  mother's  tenderness 
in  the  effort  to  bring  up  a  devout  and  pioils 
family.  We  trust  that  there  is  no  need  to 
inscribe  the  deprecating  sentence  on  your 
door.*  We  trust  that  yours  is  a  family 
which  calls  upon  God's  name.  Teach 
your  children  to  be  loving  and  generous  to 
one  another,  and  promptly  obedient  to  their 

*  Alluding  to  the  words  chalked  on  the  doors  of  in- 
fected houses  during  the  plague  of  London,  Philip  Hen- 
ry used  to  say,  "  If  the  worship  of  God  be  not  in  the 
house,  write,  <  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us !'  on  the 
door." 


THE   FIRESIDE.  179 

mother  and  you.  Seek  to  fill  their  rnindg 
with  veneration  of  God,  and  with  early  ab- 
horrence of  sin.  See  to  it  that  your  own 
conductbe  obviously  ruled  by  Bible  maxims, 
and  let  your  appeal  be  direct  and  frequent 
"  to  the  law  and  to  the  testimony."  Sustain 
no  frivolous  excuse  for  absence  at  the  hour 
of  prayer  and  try  by  all  means  to  endear 
the  sanctuary.  Like  the  good  citizen,  sung 
by  transatlantic  bard  :* — 

"  His  hair  is  crisp,  and  black,  and  long, 

His  face  is  like  the  tan ; 
His  brow  is  wet  with  honest  sweat, 

He  earns  whatever  he  can, 
And  looks  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 
For  he  owes  Mot  any  man. 

"  He  goes  on  Sunday  to  the  church, 

And  sits  among  his  boys  ; 
He  hears  the  parson  pray  and  preach  ; 

He  hears  his  daughter's  voice 
Singing  in  the  village  choir, 
And  it  makes  his  heart  rejoice." 

Which  leads    us   to   notice,   lastly,   that 
nothing  makes  the  fireside  so  cheerful  as  a 

'   Longfellow's  «  Village  Blacksmith." 


180  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

blessed  hope  beyond  it.     Even  when  you 
sit  most  lovingly  there  —  though  the  daily 
task  is  completely  done,  and  the  infant  in 
the   cradle  is  fast  asleep  —  though  this  is 
Saturday  night,  and  to-morrow  is  the  day 
of  rest — though  the  embers  are  bright,  and 
from  its  fat  and  poppling  fountain  in  yon 
coal  the  jet  of  gas  flames  up  like  a  silver 
cimiter;    and    though     within     your    little 
chamber  all  is  peace,  and  warmth,  and  snug 
repose  —  the  roaring  gusts  and  rattling  drops 
remind  you  that  it  still  is  winter  in  the  world. 
And  when  that  withered  leaf  tapped    and 
fluttered  on  the  window,  mother,  why  was 
it  that  your  cheek  grew  pale,  and  some- 
thing glistened  in  your  eye?     You  thought 
it  perhaps  might  come  from  the  churchyard 
sycamore,  and  it  sounded  like  a  messenger 
from  little  Helen's  grave.     It  said,  "Father 
and  mother,  think   of  me."     Yes,   dreary 
were  the  homes  of  earth  were  it  not  for  the 
home  in  Heaven.     But  see  to  it  that  your- 
selves be  the  Saviour's  followers,  and  then 
to  you  he  says,  "  Let  not  your  heart  bo 


THE   FIXESID1.  181 


troubled  !  In  my  Father's  house  are  many 
mansions  :  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for  you." 
And  when  you  come  to  love  that  Saviour 
rightly,  you  will  love  one  another  better, 
more  truly,  and  more  tenderly.  And, 
trusting  to  meet  again  in  that  world  where 
they  neither  marry  nor  are  given  in  mar- 
riage, a  purifying  hope  and  a  lofty  affection 
will  hallow  your  union  on  earth.  And,  if 
not  inscribed  above  your  mantel-shelf,  there 
will  at  least  be  written  in  your  deepest  self 
the  motto,  sent  to  his  bride  by  that  illustrious 
scholar,  Bengel : — 

"  Jesus  in  heaven  ; 
Jesus  in  the  heart ; 
Heaven  in  the  heart ; 
The  heart  in  heaven  " 

16 


DAY-DREAMS, 

CASPAR  RAUCHBILDER  was  a  German, 

abstruse  of  mind,  and  able  of  body.  From 
his  ancestors  he  inherited  a  blond  complex- 
ion and  a  talent  for  boiling  sugar,  so  that  he 
had  no  trouble  in  acquiring  either.  His 
calling  he  pursued  far  eastward  of  London's 
famous  tower,  somewhere  near  the  docks, 
and  where  many  chimneys  feed  the  murky 
air  of  Wapping.  But  the  thick  atmosphere 
suited  Caspar's  thoughtful  turn ;  it  favored 
mental  abstraction,  and  kept  aloof  those 
obtrusive  materialisms  which  he  deemed 
the  main  obstacles  to  transcendental  dis- 
covery. His  favorite  motto  was,  ".Ex 
f'amo  dare  lucem;"*  and,  in  order  to  en- 
hance the  partial  opacity  of  his  abode,  he 
plied  a  perpetual  meerschaum.  He  used 
to  say  that  it  was  no  wonder  that  the  Egyp- 

*  "  Smoke  is  the  sire  « f  light ;" —  a  witty  allusion  U 
the  lampblack  in  printers'  ink. 


Happy  Home. 


p.  182 


DAY-DREAMS.  183 

tians  were  the  wisest  nation  of  antiquity, 
after  three  days  of  such  glorious  darkness 
as  they  had  once  enjoyed ;  and  he  often 
thought  that  if,  like  a  celebrated  lawyer,  he 
could  live  in  a  cavern,  he  would  yet  be 
able  to  throw  some  light  on  the  world. 

It  was  the  ninth  of  November,  and  Cas- 
par's more  frivolous  companions  had  gone 
to  the  lord-mayor's  show.  They  went, 
but  they  saw  it  not.  Like  the  railway 
train,  which  dives  from  rustic  gaze  into  the 
heart  of  a  mountain,  the  show  was  tunnel- 
ing its  invisible  progress  through  the  heart 
of  a  London  fog,  and  it  was  only  by  the 
snort  of  trombones  and  the  racket  of  drums 
that  cockaigne  was  conscious  when  civic 
majesty  passed  along.  Our  sage  found 
higher  employment  for  the  holyday.  Just 
as  the  candle  in  a  sixpenny  cathedral  — 
such  as  Italian  stucco  merchants  display 
on  area-rails — just  as  that  candle  begins  to 
come  red  and  green  through  the  colored 
windows,  when  evening  shrouds  the  city, 
and  street-lamps  are  being  lit,  so  Caspar 


184  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

was  conscious  this  misty  day  of  bright 
gleams  in  his  censorium ;  and  he  deter- 
mined on  improving  the  inward  light.  Be- 
fore the  fire  he  hung  a  shaggy  coat,  which 
he  called  a  bosom  friend  ;  and  it  deserved 
the  name.  The  bosom  friend  was  some- 
what damp,  for  the  fog  had  beaded  all  the 
nap  with  a  dirty  dew.  And  on  the  table 
Caspar  placed  a  German  sausage  and  a 
dish  of  Hamburg  kraut.  But,  ere  clog- 
ging his  faculties  with  this  slight  refection, 
our  philosopher  thought  good  to  improve 
the  fit  of  inward  clear-seeing  with  which 
he  then  and  there  felt  visited.  Accord- 
ingly, settling  down  in  his  easy  chair,  and 
inspissating  the  atmosphere  with  volumes 
of  tobacco,  he  began  to  see  his  way  through 
the  system  of  the  universe. 

And  it  was  not  long  before  the  sugar- 
boiler  beheld  himself  a  social  reformer. 
He  recollected  how  often  he  had  seen  the 
gray  or  yellow  dust  arrive  at  their  factory, 
and  leave  it  the  brilliant  sugar-loaf.  And 
in  that  raw  article  he  viewed  an  emblem 


DAY-DREAMS.  «        185 


of  human  nature,  as  it  comes  from  the 
hand  of  priests  and  princes,  and  in  that 
sugar-loaf  he  saw  human  nature  as  it  quits 
the  mill  of  the  philosopher.  There  is  first 
the  boiling  in  vacua.  He  would  put  soci- 
ety into  the  caldron,  but  would  be  careful 
not  to  raise  the  temperature  above  hot 
water.  And,  in  order  to  secure  a  perfect 
vacuum,  he  would  relieve  it  of  all  preju- 
dices and  all  property.  He  would  pump 
off  those  national  codes  and  positive  faiths 
which  now  weigh  with  tremendous  pres- 
sure on  the  human  soul ;  and  as  soon  as 
that  was  accomplished,  it  would  be  the 
work  of  a  moment  to  bring  sentiment  and 
principle  into  a  state  of  absolute  solution  — 
the  first  object  to  be  sought  by  a  regenera- 
tor of  the  social  system.  The  next  busi- 
ness is  to  clarify  the  melted  mass.  Nothing 
can  be  easier.  "  In  our  works,"  pursued 
the  seer,  "  have  we  not  a  filter  of  charred 
bones?  and  have  I  not  seen  the  current 
pass  into  that  strainer  brown  as  sherry,  and 
quit  it  clear  as  crystal?  In  like  manner 
16* 


186  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

let  us  burn  the  bones  of  the  old  beliefs  and 
the  outworn  decencies.  Ha,  ha  !  they  are 
now  but  skeletons  !  And  from  the  ashes 
we  will  make  a  filter,  through  which  this 
selush  age  shall  pass  and  emerge  a  new 
moral  world.  And  then,  in  order  to  pre- 
serve this  sweet  sirup  of  refined  humanity, 
it  must  be  caught  in  moulds,  and  consoli- 
dated, and  cast,  and  kept.  For  this  pur 
pose,  one  recommends  as  the  best  form 
pyramids,  and  Fourier  doats  about  pha- 
lanxes. But  these  simpletons  had  never 
seen  a  sugar  factory.  Their  purblind  optics 
were  never  blessed  with  the  sight  of  an 
unbroken  sugar-loaf.  Talk  of  circles,  pha- 
lanxes, and  pyramids,  as  if  nature  abhorred 
the  cone  !  Is  it  not  the  most  comprehensive 
of  all  figures,  embodying  the  triangle,  the 
circle,  the  ellipse,  the  parabola,  the  hyper- 
bola ?  and  the  most  graceful,  suggesting  at 
once  the  solidity  of  the  pyramid,  and  the 
curving  fullness  of  the  sphere  ?  Away  with 
all  compromise !  I  vow  to  reconstruct 
society  on  the  only  perfect  model.  I  shall 


DAY-DilEAMS.  187 


teach  every  man  to  be  the  lover  of  all,  and 
the  friend  of  none ;  and  this  pure  and 
public-spirited  product  I  shall  fix  —  T  shall 
stereotype.  While  yet  fluent  and  limpid, 
I  shall  draw  it  off  into  moulds  ready-made  ; 
and  in  cones  of  concord,  in  sugar-loaves 
of  sympathy,  society  will  crystallize  into 
its  final  and  perfect  organization.  And 
should  there  settle  down  at  the  inverted 
apex  any  dregs  of  the  old  system,  is  there 
not  the  turning-lathe  to  pare  away  the  anti- 
social feculence  ?  All  shall  be  alike  tal 
ented,  alike  strong  and  healthy;  and  all 
equally  amiable,  rich,  and  happy.  Oui 
crest  must  be  the  sugar-cone ;  our  motto, 

SOLIDITY,  SINCERITY,  SUAVITY." 

At  this  point  of  the  speculation,  there 
mingled  with  the  odor  of  meerschaum  a 
smell  more  akin  to  burning  bones.  It  was 
not  an  old  belief  or  an  outworn  morality, 
but  the  peajacket  too  near  the  fire.  The 
bosom  friend  was  burning.  Caspar  brushed 
the  singed  and  smoking  nap,  and  put  his 
fingers  through  the  brown  and  crumbling 


188  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

skirt;  and,  lighting  a  lamp,  he  found  that 
a  neighboring  cur  had  played  an  old  prank, 
and  stolen  the  sausage  during  his  revery. 
However,  Caspar  comforted  himself.  The 
cur  had  stolen  the  sausage,  but  he  had  left 
the  sauer-kraut  and  the  sugar-loaf  theory. 

Should  the  reader  be  acquainted  with  any 
of  the  works  lately  published  on  the  organ- 
ization of  labor  and  the  reconstruction  of 
society,  he  will  not  laugh  at  the  reveries  of 
Caspar  Rauchbilder.  Nor  will  he  expect 
us  to  refute  them.  If  it  be  idle  work  to 
build  castles  in  the  air,  it  is  idle  work  be- 
sieging them. 

We  know,  however,  that  such  specula- 
tions are  interesting  to  two  classes  of  read- 
ers. There  are  some  profligate  persons 
who  catch  at  everything  which  puts  good 
for  evil,  or  which  offers  to  relieve  them  from 
moral  obligation.  They  are  tired  of  their 
wives  and  children;  they  are  tired  of  work- 
ing ;  they  are  tired  of  honesty  ;  they  would 
fain  be  fingering  the  hard-earned  savings  of 
their  fellow-laborers ;  and  they  do  not  like 


DAT-DREAMS.  189 

the  Christian  ordinance,  "  If  any  man  will 
not  work,  neither  shall  he  eat."  They 
would  be  glad  to  have  the  pocket  of  the 
shadowless  man,  so  that  if  hungry  they  might 
produce  a  tray  with  green  pease  and  smoking 
cutlets,  or  if  drowsy  they  might  put  in  their 
hand  and  pull  out  a  posted  bed  with  its 
blankets.  But  as  the  shadowless  man  will 
not  part  with  his  pocket,  they  will  be  con- 
tent, as  next  best,  to  eat  their  neighbor's 
cutlet  and  sleep  in  their  neighbor's  blankets. 

But  besides  the  lazy  and  licentious,  to 
whom  all  such  schemes  are  welcome,  we 
believe  that  at  this  moment  many  an  indus- 
trious man  feels  so  unhappy,  that  he  would 
hail  any  change  in  the  social  system  as  a 
possible  change  for  the  better.  And  if,  like 
us,  he  has  read  some  of  the  glowing  invec- 
tives and  prophecies  of  these  eager  specu- 
lators, the  wish  may  very  naturally  prove 
father  to  the  thought,  and  he  may  fancy  that 
nothing  except  a  rearrangement  of  society 
is  needful  to  bring  about  a  golden  age. 

We,  too,  are  social  reformeis.     We  se* 


190  THE    HA.PPY   HOME. 

many  things  which  grieve  us.  We  see 
much  extravagance  among  the  rich,  and 
much  improvidence  among  the  poor.  We 
see  a  great  deal  of  pride  and  bitterness. 
We  see  the  pride  of  rank,  which  believes 
that  itself  is  porcelain  and  that  common  men 
are  clay.  We  see  the  bitterness  of  penury, 
which  resents  the  wealth  of  others  as  a  crime, 
and  which  deems  it  a  proof  of  spirit  to  in- 
sult a  man  of  higher  station.  We  see  a 
fearful  amount  of  tyranny.  We  see  the 
tyranny  of  squires  and  capitalists,  refusing 
to  their  tenants  and  their  servants  the  en- 
joyment of  the  sabbath  and  freedom  to  wor- 
ship God.  And  we  see  the  tyranny  of 
working-men,  compelling  their  fellows  to 
connive  at  crime,  and  enforcing  compliance 
with  unreasonable  rules, -often  by  means  of 
the  greatest  cruelty.  These  things  we  know, 
and  we  mourn  over  them.  We  long  to  see 
them  all  redressed.  We  long  to  see  the 
rich  less  stiff,  and  reserved,  and  haughty. 
We  long  to  secure  for  cottages  and  cabins, 
Dot  only  the  Christmas  dole,  but  the  kind 


DAT-DREAMS. 


words,  and  the  friendly  recognition,  and  the 
occasional  call.  We  long  to  see  toleration 
and  fair  play.  We  long  to  see  industry  and 
a  competency  convertible  terms  ;  and  we 
long  to  see  the  laborious  classes  kindly  af- 
fectioned  one  to  another,  and  respectful  of 
the  rights  and  the  feelings  of  their  hard- 
working brethren.  And  on  every  side  we 
long  to  see  more  magnanimity,  more  confi- 
dence, and  more  mutual  forbearance. 

But  we  have  no  faith  in  any  social  re- 
form which  overlooks  the  fact  that  man  is  a 
fallen  being.  Though  we  had  never  read 
it  in  the  Bible,  we  think  we  could  read  it 
in  the  world,  that  man  is  no  longer  what  a 
holy  Creator  made  him.  His  heart  is  not 
right  with  God,  nor  is  it  right  with  his  fel- 
lows. And  every  ameliorating  scheme 
which  overlooks  this  twofold  depravity  is 
jure  to  end  in  frustration. 

For  many  ages  the  mechanical  world 
labored  to  create  a  perpetual  motion.  As 
soon  as  a  man  had  learned  a  little  algebra, 
or  a  little  of  the  art  of  engine-making,  he 


192  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

attacked  this  doughty  problem.  And  you 
may  have  seen  some  of  the  quaint  contri- 
vances which  resulted  from  these  attempts; 
cylinders  revolving  to  ever-falling  weights 
within  them,  and  polished  balls  descending 
a  self-restoring  incline.  But  as  discovery 
advanced,  it  was  found  that  all  these  efforts 
were  based  on  a  false  assumption:  that  they 
forgot  the  force  called  FRICTION.  And  as 
it  is  now  generally  conceded  that  the  dis- 
coverer of  this  sleepless  mechanism  will  be 
the  first  man  who  annihilates  the  attraction 
of  matter,  perpetual  motion  is  reserved  foi 
the  amusement  of  those  eccentric  geniuses 
who  are  best  kept  from  mischief  by  a  per- 
petual puzzle,  and  is  seldom  studied  except 
in  such  colleges  as  Han  well  and  St.  Luke's. 
But  the  problem  which  has  been  aban- 
doned in  physics  is  now  revived  in  the  do- 
main of  ethics,  and  people  ask,  "How  are 
we  to  create  within  the  race  a  constant 
progress  toward  perfection  ?  Taking  man 
as  he  is,  and  taking  such  aids  as  he  can 
nimself  supply,  how  are  we  to  abolish  mis* 


II  AY-DREAMS.  193 


ery,  and  make  the  earth  a  second  paradise?" 
And  many  solutions  have  been  offered. 
The  press  teems  with  them.  One  day  last 
summer  we  read  the  plan  most  popular. 
The  brilliant  writer  proposes  that  the  work- 
ing men  of  France  should  resolve  them- 
selves, or  that  government  should  group 
them,  into  huge  industrial  families,  for  five 
francs  apiece  working  eight  hours  a  day ; 
leaving  it  to  each  man's  sense  of  honor  how 
busily  he  shall  labor,  and  requiring  the 
clever  and  the  diligent  to  support  the  stupid 
and  the  lazy.  And  when  we  read  it,  we 
said  to  ourselves,  "  perpetual  motion  once 
more  !  This  sanguine  projector  has  over- 
looked friction.  The  scheme  might  answer 
with  angelic  operatives ;  but  if  tried  in  a 
world  like  ours,  there  are  two  things  which 
will  bring  it  to  a  speedy  stand-still :  the  one 
is  man's  irreligion ;  the  other  is  his  selfish- 
ness. He  would  need  to  be  a  true  philan- 
thropist who  would  work  with  a  steady  eye 
to  his  neighbor's  welfare;  and  he  would 
need  to  be  a  God-fearing  man  who  would 
17 


194  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

persist  to  labor  when  he  knew  that,  if  he 
slept  or  played,  his  neighbors  would  labor 
for  him."  And,  curiously  enough,  the  same 
day  brought  an  American  paper  of  May  13, 
where,  among  other  news,  we  read,  "  While 
socialism  is  going  up  in  Europe,  it  is  going 
down  in  this  country.  The  Northampton 
association  of  industry  was  abandoned,  af- 
ter having  incurred  a  debt  of  40,000  dol- 
lars, and  Hopedale  has  relinquished  the 
community  principle,  and  goes  upon  the 
individual  plan."  And  so  must  it  ever  be, 
till  the  two  grand  obstacles  are  done  away. 
Till  irreligion  is  exchanged  for  piety,  and 
till  selfishness  is  superseded  by  brotherly 
love,  the  world  must  proceed  on  the  in- 
dividual plan.  And  till  then,  Hopedale 
must  count  on  many  disappointments,  and 
old  Discord  will  resume  his  reign  in  the  halls 
of  each  New  Harmony. 

Some  people  once  built  a  bridge ;  but  it 
was  scarcely  erected  when  it  tumbled  down. 
They  tried  it  a  second  time  with  no  better 
success.  And  a  third  time  they  changed 


1  AY-DREAMS  195 


the  plan,  and  took  every  precaution,  and 
allowed  a  long  interval  for  the  mortar  to 
harden  ;  but  no  sooner  had  they  removed 
the  centrings  than  up  sprang  the  key-stone, 
and  in  bulged  the  arches,  and  with  a  crash 
and  a  plunge  the  wholesale  ruin  poured 
into  the  tide  below.  On  this,  a  council  of 
practical  men  was  convened.  The  archi- 
tect came,  armed  with  his  plans  so  prettily 
drawn,  which  he  flourished  as  on  a  field- 
day  a  marshal  will  flourish  his  baton.  And 
rival  architects  came,  not  so  much  to  sug- 
gest, as  to  enjoy  a  little  quiet  exultation. 
But  the  man  of  skill,  and  the  main  hope  of 
the  conclave,  was  a  civil  engineer  from  the 
capital.  For  a  long  time  he  said  nothing ; 
but  he  had  evidently  scanned  it  all  in  a  sin- 
gle glance,  and  it  was  clear  that  he  was  on- 
ly tracing  symbols  in  the  dust  with  his  cane, 
till  the  common  herd  had  talked  themselves 
out,  and  he  should  be  summoned  to  pro- 
nounce his  oracle.  "  Of  course,"  was  that 
oracle,  "  the  span  is  too  wide,  and  the 
ellipsis  by  far  too  eccentric."  —  "  Impossi- 


196  THE   HAPPY  HOME. 

ble  !"  said  the  horrified  architect ;  "  the  first 
plan  had  arches  as  round  as  the  Roman, 
and  it  went  like  a  house  of  cards."  This 
by  no  means  shook  the  judgment  of  the 
man  of  skill  ;  but  it  emboldened  a  plain 
man,  who  once  wrought  as  a  mason  in  that 
country-side,  but  who  had  saved  a  little 
money,  and  was  now  doing  business  on  his 
own  behalf.  "  Truly,  sirs,  I  wonder  that 
you  think  of  nothing  but  arches,  and  abut- 
ments, and  spans.  Just  look  at  that  brick ;" 
and  so  saying,  in  his  great  hand  he  crushed 
a  fragment  as  if  it  were  touchwood  or  toad- 
stool. "  I  never  knew  a  brick  come  from 
these  fields  which  would  bear  the  weight 
of  its  neighbor.  It  is  not  the  fault  of  the 
plan  ;  it  is  all  the  blame  of  the  bricks.5' 
And  it  would  be  well  if  projectors  in  politics 
and  morals  adverted  more  to  THE  STRENGTH 
OF  THEIR  MATERIALS.  Like  bricks  from 
the  same  kiln,  some  specimens  of  human 
nature  may  be  better  than  others ;  but  in 
building  a  social  structure  for  Britain  cr  the 
world,  you  must  look,  not  to  picked  sam- 


DREAMS.  197 


pies,  but  to  the  ordinary  run.  You  must 
look  not  to  patriots,  and  saints,  and  the 
martyrs  of  favorite  schemes  ;  but  you  mu,st 
look  at  your  neighbors,  and  your  shopmates, 
and  the  mass  of  your  fellow-townsmen,  and 
say  if  you  are  prepared  to  cast  away  all  your 
present  securities  for  peace  and  comfort, 
and  fling  yourself  entirely  on  the  honor  of 
each  and  the  charities  of  all  ?  For  if  you 
distrust  your  neighbors  as  they  are,  no  new 
arrangement  into  groups  or  ateliers,  into 
phalanxes  or  cones,  will  make  them  trust- 
worthy. A  few  bad  bricks  will  spoil  the 
finest  arch;  but  the  finest  arch  will  not  con- 
vert to  marble  or  adamant  blocks  of  untem- 
pered  clay. 

We  love  our  fellow-men,  and  we  long  for 
their  greater  happiness ;  but  so  profoundly 
do  we  believe  that  "  the  imagination  of 
man's  heart  is  only  evil" — so  persuaded 
are  we  that  our  world,  as  yet,  contains  lit- 
tle loyalty  to  God,  and  little  love  of  man  to 
man  —  that  uve  have  no  faith  in  any  self- 
restoring  system.  It  is  not  a  new  construc- 
17* 


198  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

lion  which  society  needs,  so  much  as  new 
material.  Nor  can  we  promise  ourselves  a 
political  millennium.  Doubtless  it  is  the 
duty  of  every  citizen  to  give  efficiency  to 
such  good  government  as  he  enjoys ;  and 
it  is  the  duty  of  every  state  to  aim  at  con- 
stitutional optimism ;  to  seek  such  a  code 
of  laws,  and  such  a  distribution  of  power, 
as  will  make  it  easiest  for  the  citizens  to 
do  what  is  right,  and  most  difficult  to  do 
what  is  wrong.  But  there  is  no  magic  in 
political  change.  No  form  of  government — 
republican,  representative,  or  despotic  — 
can  cure  the  real  complaint  of  our  species. 
No  law  can  change  vice  into  virtue,  or  give 
to  guilt  the  joys  of  innocence.  No  rulei 
can  make  the  atheist  happy,  or  kindle  a 
blessed  hope  in  that  mephitic  mind  which 
has  quenched  its  own  lamp  of  immortality. 
When  Hercules  put  on  the  poisoned  robe, 
it  did  not  matter  where  he  went :  no  change 
of  climate,  no  breezy  height,  no  balmy  sky 
could  lull  the  venom  in  his  fiery  veins. 
Restless  and  roaming,  he  wandered  to  and 


PAY-DREAMS.  199 


fro,  and  raged  at  everything;  but  the  real 
quarrel  was  with  his  tainted  self,  and  the 
change  which  would  have  relieved  his  mis- 
ery would  have  been  a  migration  from  his 
own  writhing  nerves  and  stounding  bones. 
And  let  a  man  of  idle  or  immoral  habits,  or 
let  an  ill-assorted  family,  try  all  the  consti- 
tutions in  the  world  —  or  let  a  new  consti- 
tution come  to  their  own  country  once 
a-year — and  they  will  soon  discover  that  to 
a  guilty  conscience,  or  a  dissolute  charac- 
ter, political  day-springs  bring  no  healing. 
Legislation  contains  no  charm — no  spell 
for  converting  personal  or  domestic  wretch- 
edness into  virtue  and  tranquillity;  and  so 
long  as  a  man  is  entangled  in  his  own  cor- 
ruption—  so  long  as  he  wears  the  poisoned 
vest  of  inherent  depravity — "he  may 
change  the  place,  but  he  can  not  cheat  the 
pain." 

Is  there,  then,  you  will  ask,  no  hope  for 
society  ?  Is  the  present  routine  of  selfish- 
ness, oppression,  and  suffering,  to  go  on 
for  ever?  Assuredly  not.  But  it  will 


500  THE   HAPPY  HOME. 

come  to  an  end  in  no  other  way  except 
that  which  God  has  designed  and  foretold, 
It  will  end  when  he  himself  interposes. 
Till  then,  visionaries,  amiable  or  atheistic, 
may  each  propound  his  panacea;  but,  alas  ! 
the  plague  of  society  is  too  virulent  for  any 
medicine  native  to  our  earth.  And  no 
doubt  elaborate  attempts  will  be  made,  and 
issociations  will  be  formed,  with  a  view  to 
counteract  the  dispersive  elements  in  hu- 
man nature.  Influential  leaders,  poetical 
statesmen,  and  discarded  projectors,  will 
gay,  "  Go  to,  let  us  build  us  a  city  and  a 
tower,  whose  top  may  reach  unto  heaven, 
and  let  us  make  us  a  name,  lest  we  be  scat- 
tered abroad  upon  the  face  of  the  whole 
earth  ;"  but  the  feuds  and  the  jargon  which 
confounded  the  plain  of  Shinar,  will  prove 
fatal  to  Babel  the  Second.  And  it  is  not 
till  the  Prince  of  Peace  shall  commence 
his  reign  of  righteousness,  and,  simulta- 
neous with  his  enthronement,  the  Spirit  of 
God  shall  mollify  the  minds  of  men,  that 
'  violence"  shall  vanish  from  our  earth, 


DAY-DREAMS.  201 


and  "  wasting  and  destruction"  from  within 
its  borders.  And  when  that  day  comes  — 
when,  by  the  direct  interference  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  man's  enmity  to  God  is  con- 
verted into  allegiance  and  love,  and  man's 
selfishness  is  drowned  in  kindness  and  good- 
will—  many  of  the  results  for  which  men  at 
present  sigh  will  no  longer  need  perilous 
experiments,  but  will  develop  of  their  own 
accord.  When  the  years  are  all  one  pen- 
tecost,  and  the  world  one  Christian  family, 
none  will  lack,  and,  if  they  please,  people 
may  then  have  "  all  things  in  common."* 
"  For  as  the  earth  bringeth  forth  her  bud, 
and  as  the  garden  causeth  the  things  that 
are  sown  in  it  to  spring  forth ;  so  the  Lord 
God  will  cause  righteousness  and  praise  to 
spring  forth  before  all  the  nations." 

And,  in  the  meanwhile,  the  reader  may 
secure  his  own  happiness  without  overturn- 
ing an  empire  or  new-moulding  society. 
Like  Caspar  Rauchbilder,  you  run  the  risk 
of  losing  some  solid  and  immediate  advan- 
*  Acts  ii.  and  iv. 


202  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

tages,  while  musing  on  remote  and  whole- 
sale reformations.  The  present  state  of 
society  maybe  vicious;  but,  in  the  most 
essential  matters,  your  Creator  has  rendered 
you  independent  of  society.  By  making 
you  the  custodier  of  your  own  soul,  he  has 
made  you  the  keeper  of  your  own  comfort. 
And  if  you  be  wise,  you  will  go  so  far  on 
the  individual  plan  as  to  study  the  gospel, 
and  seek  the  one  thing  needful  for  yourself. 
So  far  as  you  are  concerned,  that  gospel  is 
a  personal  message.  To  you  and  me,  my 
brother,  God  offers  a  personal  salvation. 
And  if  we  believe  that  gospel,  and  live 
godly,  righteous,  and  sober  in  the  world, 
whatever  be  the  state  'of  society,  we  shall 
secure  our  personal  happiness  here  and 
hereafter.  Perhaps,  too,  we  shall  then  be 
able  to  do  something  in  order  to  mitigate 
the  misery  and  increase  the  happiness  of 
those  around  us. 


FIRE-FLIES, 

IN  the  New  World's  warmer  forests  they 
find  great  numbers  of  a  shining  fly  ;*  and 
so  plentiful  is  their  light  that  people  often 
turn  them  to  useful  purposes.  A  friend  of 
our  own,  when  his  ship  lay  anchored  off  the 
coast,  had  occasion  to  search  for  a  book  in 
'the  cabin  overnight,  and  recollecting  that 
two  of  these  living  lanterns  were  enclosed 
in  a  pill-box,  with  their  aid  he  ran  over  the 
titles  of  the  different  volumes,  till  he  found 
the  one  he  wanted.  The  natives  often  keep 
a  few  in  a  vial,  to  guide  them  at  little  turns 
of  household  work ;  and  as  there  is  no  dan 
ger  of  their  causing  combustion,  travellers 
sometimes  put  one  of  these  vials  along 
with  their  watch,  and  under  their  pillow. 

Of  such   tiny  lights  we  now  send  the 
reader  a  specimen.     It  is  not  the  object  of 
*  Elater  noctilucus,  a  sort  of  beetle. 


204  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 


these  tracts  to  give  a  system  of  theology, 
but  we  should  be  glad  if  we  could  impart 
the  A  B  C  of  Christianity;  and  in  study- 
ing its  early  lessons,  our  fire-flies  may  lend 
a  little  light  Thankful  should  we  be  if 
they  proved  of  service  to  any  one  journey- 
ing in  the  dark,  and  perplexed  about  his 
road ;  or  if  they  shed  a  ray,  however  feeble, 
on  any  sentence  of  God's  own  word.  And 
though  grown  people  may  despise  them, 
we  are  not  without  the  hope  that,  like  the 
flying  lamps  in  Chili,  they  may  find  favor 
with  your  boys  and  girls. 


THE    PILGRIMS    AND    THEIR   PITCHERS. 

IT  was  long  ago,  and  somewhere  in  the 
eastern  clime.  The  king  came  into  the 
garden  and  called  the  children  round  him. 
He  led  them  up  to  a  sunny  knoll  and  a  leafy 
arbor  on  its  summit.  And  when  they  had 
all  sat  down,  he  said,  "  You  see  far  down 
the  river,  and  hanging  as  on  the  side  of  the 
hill,  yon  palace?  It  is  a  palace — though 


FIRE-FLIES.  205 


here  it  looks  so  little  and  far  away.  But 
when  you  reach  it  you  will  find  it  a  larger 
and  sweeter  home  than  this:  and  when  you 
come  you  will  find  that  I  have  got  there  be- 
fore you.  And  when  you  arrive  at  the 
gate,  that  they  may  know  that  you  belong 
to  me,  and  may  let  you  in,  here  is  what 
each  of  you  must  take  with  him."  And  he 
gave  to  each  of  the  children  a  most  beauti- 
ful alabaster  jar  —  a  little  pitcher  so  ex- 
quisitely fashioned  that  you  were  almost 
afraid  to  touch  it,  so  pure  that  you  could 
see  the  daylight  through  it,  and  with  deli- 
cate figures  raised  on  its  sides.  "  Take 
this,  and  carry  it  carefully.  Walk  steadily, 
and  the  journey  will  soon  be  over."  But 
they  had  not  gone  far  before  they  forgot. 
One  was  running  carelessly  and  looking 
over  his  shoulder,  when  his  foot  stumbled, 
and  as  he  fell  full  length  on  the  stony  path 
the  pitcher  was  shivered  in  a  thousand 
pieces  ;  and  one  way  and  another,  long, 
long  before  they  reached  the  palace,  they 
had  broken  all  the  pitchers.  When  this 
IS 


206  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

happened  I  may  mention  what  some  of  them 
did.  Some  grow  sulky,  and  knowing  that 
it  was  of  no  use  to  go  forward  without  the 
token,  they  began  to  shatter  the  fragments 
still  smaller,  and  dashed  the  broken  sherds 
among  the  stones,  and  stamped  them  with 
their  feet;  and  then  they  said,  "Why 
trouble  ourselves  about  this  palace  ?  It  is 
far  away,  and  here  is  a  pleasant  spot.  We 
will  just  stay  here  and  play."  And  so  they 
began  to  play.  Another  could  not  play, 
but  sat  wringing  his  hands,  and  weeping 
bitterly.  Another  grew  pale  at  first,  but 
recovered  his  composure  a  little  on  obser- 
ving that  his  pitcher  was  not  broken  so  bad 
as  some  others.  There  were  three  or  four 
large  pieces,  and  these  he  put  together  as 
well  as  he  could.  It  was  a  broken  pitcher 
that  could  hold  no  water,  but  by  a  little 
care  he  could  keep  it  together  ;  and  so  he 
gathered  courage,  and  began  to  walk  along 
more  cautiously.  Just  then,  a  voice  ac- 
costed the  weeping  boy,  and  looking  up  he 
saw  a  very  lovely  form,  with  a  sweet  and 


THE   PILGRIM    AND   THE   PITCHERS. 

Happy   Home  p.  90T 


FIRE-FLIES.  207 


pleasant  countenance  —  such  a  countenance 
as  is  accustomed  to  be  happy,  though  some- 
thing for  the  present  has  made  it  sad.  And 
in  his  hand  he  held  just  such  a  pitcher  as 
the  little  boy  had  broken,  only  the  work- 
manship was  more  exquisite,  and  the  colors 
were  as  bright  as  the  rainbow  round  the 
stranger's  head.  "You  may  have  it,"  he 
said  ;  "  it  is  better  than  the  one  you  have 
lost,  and  though  it  is  not  the  same,  they  will 
know  it  at  the  gate."  The  little  mourner 
could  scarcely  believe  that  it  was  really 
meant  for  him  ;  but  the  kind  looks  of  the 
stranger  encouraged  him.  He  held  out  his 
hand  for  the  stranger's  vase,  and  gave  a 
sob  of  joyful  surprise  when  he  found  it  his 
own.  He  began  his  journey  again,  and 
you  would  have  liked  to  see  how  tenderly 
he  carried  his  treasure,  and  how  carefully 
he  picked  his  steps,  and  how  sometimes, 
when  he  gave  another  look  at  it,  the  tear 
would  fill  his  eye,  and  he  lifted  up  his  hap- 
py thankful  face  to  heaven.  The  stranger 
made  the  same  offer  to  the  playing  boys, 


208  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

out  by  this  time  they  were  so  bent  on  their 
new  amusements,  that  they  did  not  care  for 
it.  Some  saucy  children  said,  he  might  lay 
his  present  down  and  leave  it  there  if  he 
liked,  and  they  would  take  it  when  they 
wanted  it.  He  passed  away,  and  spoke  to 
the  boy  who  was  carrying  the  broken  pitch- 
er. At  first  he  would  have  denied  that  it 
was  broken,  but  the  traveller's  clear  glance 
had  already  seen  it  all ;  and  so  he  told  him, 
"  You  had  better  cast  it  away,  and  have  this 
one  in  its  stead."  The  boy  would  have 
been  very  glad  to  have  this  new  one,  but  to 
throw  away  the  relics  of  his  own  was  what 
he  could  never  think  of.  They  were  his 
chief  dependence  every  time  he  thought  of 
the  journey's  end  ;  so  he  thanked  the 
stranger,  and  clasped  his  fragments  firmer. 
The  boy  with  the  gift-pitcher  and  this  other 
reached  the  precincts  of  the  palace  about 
the  same  time.  They  stood  for  a  little  and 
looked  on.  They  noticed  some  of  the 
bright-robed  inhabitants  going  out  and  in, 
and  every  time  they  passed  the  gate,  they 


FIRE-FLIES.  209 


presented  such  a  token  as  they  themselves 
had  once  got  from  the  king,  but  had  broken 
so  long  ago.  The  boy  who  had  accepted 
the  kind  stranger's  present  now  went  for- 
ward, and  held  it  up ;  and  whether  it  was 
the  light  glancing  on  it  from  the  pearly  gate, 
I  can  not  tell,  but  at  that  instant  its  owner 
thought  that  it  had  never  looked  so  fair. 
He  who  kept  the  gate  seemed  to  think  the 
same,  for  he  gave  a  friendly  smile,  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  I  know  who  gave  you  that;" 
and  immediately  the  door  was  lifted  up  and 
let  the  little  pilgrim  in.  The  boy  with  the 
broken  pitcher  now  began  to  wish  that  his 
choice  had  been  the  same ;  but  there  was 
no  help  for  it  now.  He  adjusted  the  frag- 
ments as  skilfully  as  he  could,  and  trying 
to  look  courageous,  carried  them  in  both 
his  hands.  But  he  who  kept  the  gate  was 
not  to  be  deceived.  He  shook  his  head, 
and  there  was  that  sorrow  in  his  look  which 
leaves  no  hope.  The  bearer  of  the  broken 
pitcher  still  held  fast  his  useless  sherds, 
and  lingered  long.  But  no  one  took  any 
J8* 


2!G  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

notice  of  him,  or  felt  the  smallest  pity  for 
him  ;  and  though  he  made  many  efforts, 
every  time  he  approached  the  door  it  seem- 
ed of  itself  to  shut  again.* 


THE    ROYAL    FEAST. 

A  CERTAIN  king  prepared  a  feast  in  hon- 
or of  his  dear  and  only  son.  And  the  first 
invitations  he  issued  to  the  nobles  of  the 
land,  and  some  ancient  families  who  had 
been  long  in  favor  with  the  prince.  But 
when  the  appointed  hour  arrived  a  sulky  fit 
had  seized  them,  and,  as  if  by  previous  con- 
cert, scarcely  one  of  them  appeared.  But 

*  Perhaps  you  will  understand  this  story  by  laying 
the  following  texts  together : — 

"  Without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord." — Heb. 
xii.  14. 

"  God  made  man  upright." — Eccl.  vii.  29. 

"All  have  sinned  and  come  short  of  the  glory  of 
God." — Rom.  iii.  23. 

"  All  the  world  is  guilty  before  God.  And  by  the 
deeds  of  the  law  there  shall  no  flesh  be  justified  in  hig 
sight."— Rom.  iii.  19,  20. 

"  But  now  THE  RIGHTEOUSNESS  OF  GOD  is  manifest- 
ed ;  even  the  righteousness  of  God  which  is  by  faith  of 
Jesus  Christ,  unto  all  and  upon  all  them  that  believe. 


FIRE-FLIES.  211 


resolved  that  his  munificence  should  not 
be  lost,  nor  the  honor  intended  for  his  son 
defeated,  and  as  all  the  people  there  around 
were  equally  his  subjects,  he  said  to  his 
servants,  "  The  feast  is  ready,  but  the  guests 
are  not  come.  Go  into  the  streets  and 
hedges,  and  bring  in  whomsoever  you  find." 
Forth  went  the  servants,  and  great  was  the 
wonder  when  they  announced  their  errand. 
A  poor  laborer  was  returning  from  his  work, 
and  having  got  no  wages  from  his  master, 
was  trudging  wearily  home  to  his  empty 
cupboard,  when  the  king's  messenger  hailed 
him,  and  told  him  that  a  feast  was  prepared 
for  him.  After  the  first  gaze  of  incredulity, 

Being  justified  freely  by  his  grace,  through  the  redemp- 
tion that  is  in  Christ  Jesus :  whom  God  hath  set  forth 
to  be  a  propitiation,  through  faith  in  his  blood." — Rom. 
iii.  21,  22,  24,  25. 

"  Therefore  being  justified  by  faith,  we  have  peace 
with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ:  by  whom 
also  we  have  access  by  faith  into  this  grace  wherein  we 
stand,  and  rejoice  in  hope  of  the  glory  of  God." — Rom. 
v.  1,  2. 

"  But  they  being  ignorant  of  GOD'S  RIGHTEOUS- 
NESS, and  going  about  to  establish  their  own  righteous- 
ness, have  not  submitted  themselves  unto  the  righteous 
SLtsu  of  God." — Rom.  x.  3. 


212  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

finding  that  he  carried  this  commission  from 
his  king,  and  was  really  in  earnest,  the  poor 
laborer  turned  his  steps  toward  the  palace. 
The  next  was  a  cripple,  who  sat  by  the 
wayside,  begging.  He  had  gathered  little 
that  day,  when  the  messenger  told  him  he 
would  find  a  feast  at  the  palace,  and  the 
king  desired  to  see  him.  The  lame  man 
had  heard  that  something  remarkable  was 
going  on  at  the  court,  and  that  the  king 
was  giving  an  entertainment  in  honor  of 
some  special  event  in  his  son's  history ; 
and  though  he  expected  no  more  than  a 
loaf  of  bread  and  a  flagon  of  wine  at  the 
gate,  as  he  knew  that  the  king  was  of  a 
very  sumptuous  and  gracious  disposition, 
he  did  not  hesitate,  but  raised  himself  on 
his  crutches,  got  up,  and  hobbled  away. 
Then  the  messenger  came  to  a  shady  lane, 
down  which  a  retired  old  gentleman  lived 
on  a  small  spot  of  ground  of  his  own.  The 
messenger  had  far  more  trouble  with  him. 
It  was  not  so  much  that  he  questioned  the 
message,  or  that  he  did  not  like  the  invita 


FIRE-FLIES.  213 


tion,  but  that  he  was  annoyed  at  its  abrupt- 
ness and  his  own  want  of  preparedness. 
He  asked  if  there  were  to  be  no  more  in- 
vitations issued  next  week,  or  if  there  were 
no  possibility  of  postponing  the  visit  till  the 
following  evening  ;  for,  considering  his  sta- 
tion in  society,  he  would  like  to  appear  in 
his  best,  and  could  have  been  glad  of  a  lit- 
tle leisure  to  get  all  things  in  order.  "  How- 
ever," said  the  messenger,  "  you  know  the 
custom  of  our  court — the  king  provides 
the  robes  of  state  —  all  things  are  ready, 
come  away ;"  arad  as  he  posted  on,  the  old 
householder  thought  that  rather  than  run 
any  risk,  he  had  better  go  at  once  —  though 
some  noticed  that  as  he  passed  along  he 
occasionally  eyed  his  thread-bare  garment 
with  a  look  that  seemed  to  say,  he  could 
have  put  on  better,  had  longer  time  been 
allowed  him.  Then  at  the  palace  it  was 
interesting  to  see  how  the  different  parties 
acted.  According  to  the  custom  o'  thai 
country,  and  more  especially  after  the  mag- 
oificent  manner  of  that  king,  earh  guest  was 


214  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

furnished  on  his  arrival  with  a  gorgeous 
robe.  They  were  all  alike,  exceeding  rich 
and  costly  ;  and,  the  moment  he  came  up, 
one  was  handed  to  each  new-comer,  and  he 
put  it  on,  and  passed  in  to  the  dazzling 
banquet-hall.  Some  awkward  persons,  who 
did  not  know  the  usage  of  the  place,  and 
who  had  carried  with  them  the  mean  no- 
tions which  they  learned  among  the  high- 
ways and  hedges,  scrupled  to  receive  these 
shining  robes,  and  asked  what  price  they 
must  pay  for  them.  And  one  individual  was 
observed  to  come  in  with  rather  better  attire 
than  the  rest,  and  when  offered  a  robe  of 
the  king's  providing,  he  politely  declined 
it,  and  stepped  forward  into  the  state-apart- 
ments. He  was  no  sooner  there  than  he 
rued  his  vanity  —  for  his  faded  tinsel  con- 
trasted fearfully  with  the  clothing  of  wrought 
gold  in  which  the  other  guests  were  arrayed. 
However,  instead  of  going  back  to  get  it 
changed,  he  awaited  the  issue.  All  things 
were  ready  ;  the  folding-doors  opened,  and 
from  chambers  all-radiant  with  purest  light, 


FIRE-FLIES.  215 


and  redolent  of  sweetest  odors,  amidst  a 
joyful  train  the  king  stepped  in  to  see  the 
company.  A  frown  for  a  moment  darken- 
ed his  majestic  brow  as  he  espied  the  pre- 
sumptuous guest,  but  the  intruder  that  in- 
stant vanished  ;  and,  with  a  benignity  which 
created  in  every  soul  such  a  joy  as  it  had 
never  felt  before  —  with  a  look  which  con- 
ferred nobility  wherever  it  alighted,  and  a 
smile  that  awakened  immortality  in  every 
bosom  —  he  bade  them  welcome  to  the 
ivory  palace,  and  told  them  to  forget  their 
father's  house  and  their  poor  original,  for 
he  meant  to  make  them  princes  every  one, 
and  as  there  were  many  mansions  in  the 
house  they  should  there  abide  for  ever.* 


THE    BLASTED    BOWER. 

Thousands  of  years  ago,  there  lived  a 
prince-philosopher.  In  his  youth  he  was 

•See  Matt.  xxii.  1-14;  and  Luke  xiv,  15-24, 
and  compare  them  with  Isaiah  xxv.  6,  Iv.  1-3 ;  PhiK 
iii.  8,  9;  Rev.  iii.  17,  18. 


216  THE   HAPPY   H031E. 

single-hearted  and  devout.  He  loved  to 
pray,  and  the  beautiful  hymns  which  his 
father  had  written  he  delighted  to  sing,  and 
he  made  some  of  his  own  as  beautiful. 
And  the  Most  High  God  loved  this  pious 
prince,  and  prospered  him  wonderfully. 
And  as,  harp  in  hand,  he  sat  on  one  of  the 
knolls  of  Zion  singing  Jehovah's  praise, 
there  began  to  sprout  and  bourgeon  from 
the  soil  sweet  scents  and  brilliant  blossoms  ; 
and  as.  the  psalm  proceeded,  the  vines  and 
creepers  mounted,  and  the  tendrils  took 
hold  of  one  another,  till  they  mantled  over- 
head, and  the  minstrel  sang  in  a  nest  of 
flowers.  The  young  prince  was  very  fond 
of  this  alcove,  and  spent  in  it  many  a  sultry 
noon.  But,  by-and-by,  he  began  to  love 
God  less,  and  soon  forgot  him  altogether. 
He  did  not  care  to  sing  psalms  and  pray; 
and  a  bad  wife  taught  him  to  worship  her 
god.  It  was  a  gilded  idol,  shaped  like  a 
beautiful  woman ;  and  this  silly  man  said 
his  prayers  to  this  image  of  gold.  And  at 
last  he  took  the  image  into  his  beautiful 


FIRE-FLIES.  217 


bower :  but  no  sooner  had  it  entered  than 
a  shudder  passed  through  the  alcove, 
arn.d  every  leaflet  trembled.  The  jasminr. 
breathed  sickly,  the  rose  flung  down  its 
petals,  and  the  heart's-ease  died.  The 
prince  was  much  mortified.  He  vowed 
ihat  he  would  make  the  bower  blossom 
again.  So  he  took  a  costly  urn,  and  filled 
it  with  a  rai4)  elixir — an  infusion  into 
which  he  had  melted  music,  and  precious 
gerns,  and  daintiest  delights  —  and  poured 
the  voluptuous  draught  around  the  roots. 
But  without  effect:  all  continued  bare  and 
blighted.  Then  he  filled  the  urn  with 
conquest,  and  with  the  blood-red  irrigation 
soaked  the  reeking  soil.  In  vain.  And. 
last  of  all,  he  travelled  far,  and  climbed  a 
lofty  steep  in  quest  of  a  famous  dew.  And 
in  his  pilgrimage  to  the  world-top  mount- 
ain, he  amassed  such  knowledge  as  no  mor- 
tal had  ever  gleaned  before.  He  learned 
the  entire  of  things,  and  spake  of  birds  and 
beasts  and  fishes ;  and  when  he  returned 
no  wondrous  wise,  his  compatriots  raised  a 
19 


218  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

shout  with  which  the  welkin  vibrates  still, 
And  from  the  chalice  he  poured  the  hoard- 
ed draught  —  the  largest  flood  of  fame  ever 
wasted  on  weary  land.  But  still  there  was 
nothing  seen  except  the  wiry  trellis  against 
the  burning  sky;  and  on  his  blasted  bower 
the  broken-hearted  monarch  wrote,  "  Van- 
ity of  vanities,  all  is  vanity." 

Years  passed  on,  and,  visiting  the  spot, 
the  soul  of  the  prince  was  moved.  It  felt 
as  if  all  his  youth  had  been  a  balmy  trance 
in  this  bower  of  blessedness,  and  as  if  he 
had  tasted  no  real  joy  since  then.  And, 
observing  beneath  the  withered  canopy  the 
crumbling  stock  of  Ashtaroth,  he  seized 
the  rotten  pagod  and  hurled  it  far  away. 
Then,  sinking  on  the  ground  in  a  paroxysm 
of  bitter  grief,  he  cried,  "  My  Father,  my 
God,  wert  not  thou  the  guide  of  my  youth  ?" 
His  spirit  relented.  To  the  God  of  his 
early  adoration  he  felt  his  early  love  return- 
ing, and  soon  sank  into  a  sleep  which  in- 
genuous shame  and  godly  sorrow  pervaded 
As  he  woke,  the  smell  of  a  delicious  flower 


FIRE-FLIES.  219 


startled  a  youthful  memory;  and,  gazing 
upward,  roses  of  Sharon  looked  down 
through  the  lattice,  while  among  them,  like 
pulses  of  Paradise,  exquisite  odors  went 
and  came.  Heaven's  window  had  opened 
while  the  penitent  slept,  and  had  sent  a 
plenteous  rain.  And  rising  from  the  fra- 
grant couch,  as  a  conclusion  of  the  whole 
matter,  and  as  the  business  of  his  remain- 
ing days,  Solomon  wrote  this  inscription  : 
"  Fear  God,  and  keep  his  commandments  ; 
for  this  is  the  whole  duty  of  man."* 


THE    VOYAGE. 

There  was  a  man  who  owned  a  little 
ship,  and  carried  on  in  it  a  petty  coasting 
trade.  He  used  to  creep  from  port  to 
port,  and  bought  or  bartered  such  com- 
modities as  each  supplied.  And  being  fond 
of  knowledge  and  strange  sights,  he  some- 
times landed  and  visited  the  interior,  and 

*  For  the  key,  consult  the  Book  of  Ecclesiastes,  and 
1  Kings,  xi. 


220  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

noted   down   any   curious    thing  he   came 
upon.* 

But  being  of  a  wistful  and  aspiring  turn, 
he  often  longed  to  spread  a  bolder  sail,  and 
make  some  nobler  land.t  He  had  heard 
the  rumor  of  brighter  dimes ;  a  whisper 
of  spicy  forests  and  dazzling  wings  ;  a  dis- 
tant report  of  waters  which  mature  the 
pearl,  and  rivers  which  run  down  gold.f 
But  the  rumor  was  vague,  and  stirred  no 
effort ;  and  so  our  merchantman  still  cruised 
about  from  one  dingy  port  to  another  of  the 
little  island  where  he  was  born :  till  one 
day,  talking  to  a  friend,  and  lamenting  his 
joyless  life,  his  labor  without  profit,  and  his 
success  without  satisfaction,  he  was  sur- 
prised to  Learn  that  his  friend  had  long 
felt  the  same.  Nay,  more  :  he  had  been 
making  inquiry,  and  had  resolved  on  for- 
saking his  present  line  of  life.  He  had 
learned  that  the  Lord  of  that  better  land 
was  a  most  kind  and  generous  Prince,  and 
made  all  strangers  welcome,  provided  that, 

*  Eccl  i.  16,  17.     t  Psalms,  Iv.  6.     f  I  Cor.  ii.  9. 


FIRE-FLIES.  221 


ere  setting  out,  they  secured  a  passport, 
which  was  freely  supplied  to  all  who  chose. 
And  he  had  gained  some  information  regard- 
ing the  country  itself.  The  exact  distance 
he  could  not  tell.  Some  had  reached  it  in 
a  few  weeks,  and  others  had  been  at  sea 
for  several  years.  But  he  had  procured 
a  chart  in  which  the  course  was  clearly 
marked,  and  the  grand  port  of  arrival  set 
down.  And,  for  his  own  part,  he  was  sick 
of  this  wretched  coast,  which  yielded  noth- 
ing except  the  lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the 
lust  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life;  and 
he  was  determined  to  lose  no  time  in  set- 
ting sail  for  Immanuel's  land. 

Delighted  with  the  information,  and  fur- 
nished with  the  chart,  our  voyager  also 
resolved  to  steer  for  this  better  country. 
And,  like  one  into  whom  a  mighty  purpose 
has  entered,  there  was  great  alacrity  in  his 
movements,  and  much  energy  in  his  prep- 
arations. He  might  sometimes  be  seen  for 
hours  bending  over  the  chart,  and  familiar- 
izing himself  with  its  landmarks.  And,  in 
19* 


222  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 


his  anxiety  to  be  well-informed  on  the  sub- 
ject, he  got  the  narratives  of  some  distin- 
guished manners  who  had  performed  the 
voyage  lately;  but  after  reading  several,  he 
found  that  they  all  agreed  in  extolling  the 
minuteness  and  fidelity  of  the  chart;  and 
always  ended  by  saying,  that  whosoever 
took  heed  to  his  track,  according  to  its 
markings,  could  never  go  wrong.* 

At  last  he  set  sail.  It  was  a  bright  and 
airy  morning  when  his  little  vessel  turned 
her  head  to  sea.  In  the  healthy  flutter 
overhead,  he  heard  a  promise  of  better 
things  to  come,  and  the  thought,  "  Bound 
for  the  better  land,"  put  springs  into  his 
feet  as  he  paced  the  exulting  deck.  The 
very  clouds,  which  scurried  light  and  pure 
along  the  sky,  he  hailed  as  friends  and  fel- 
low-voyagers, for  they,  too,  seemed  to  seek 
that  brighter  shore ;  and  the  faith  and  hope 
with  which  his  whole  nature  swelled  and 
thrilled,  at  last  melted  into  love  and  won- 
der; and  with  uplifted  hands  he  cried, 
*  Psalm  cxix.  9,  99. 


FIRE-FLIES. 


"  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  according  to  his 
abundant  mercy,  hath  begotten  me  to  a 
lively  hope — to  an  inheritance  incorrup- 
tible and  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not 
away ;"  and  presently,  on  bended  knees, 
he  was  pouring  out  the  gratitude  of  his 
ravished  heart  to  the  glorious  Lord  of  that 
land. 

He  was  getting  clear  of  the  roads  when 
he  noticed  a  lighthouse  rising  up  from  the 
water,  and  looking  to  the  chart,  he  found 
that  it  was  erected  over  the  Demas  sands.* 
And  just  here  a  pilot-boat  came  alongside 
of  him,  bearing  despatches  from  the  shore. 
One  was  a  letter  reminding  him  of  his  en- 
gagement to  grace  with  his  presence  a 
splendid -rout,  which  was  to  come  off  next 
day,  and  reminding  him  that  it  was  partly 
in  honor  of  himself  that  it  was  given,  and 
they  would  all  be  so  dull  without  him. 
And  the  other  was  a  letter  from  a  near  rela- 
tion, telling  him,  that  if  he  persisted  in  tins' 
*  2  Tim.  iv.  10. 


224  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

ridiculous  course,  although  he  had  intended 
to  make  him  his  heir,  he  would  alter  his 
will,  and  cut  him  off  with  a  shilling.  But, 
just  at  that  moment,  the  peace  of  God  was 
to  keeping  his  mind,  that  neither  message 
disturbed  him.  He  remembered,  "  Be  not 
conformed  to  the  world :  love  not  the 
world,  neither  the  things  that  be  of  the 
world  ;"  and  having  written  two  brief  but 
decisive  notes,  he  turned  the  vessel's  head 
a  point  more  to  seaward,  and  cleared  in 
safety  the  Demas  sands. 

After  this  the  breeze  abated,  and  toward 
noon  it  was  nearly  calm.  Our  voyager 
was  in  high  spirits  at  the  moral  victory 
which  he  had  just  achieved,  and  was  now 
pretty  sure  that  he  had  not  only  set  out  in 
the  right  direction,  but  that,  at  this  rate, 
nothing  coald  hinder  him  from  landing 
aright.  A  little  self-complacency  sprang 
up  in  his  mind,  and  he  thought  less  about 
the  kindness  of  Him  who  had  invited  him 
to  the  goodly  realm,  than  about  his  own 
IUCK  or  wisdom  in  actually  goirg.  And 


FIRE-FLIES.  223 


while  he  was  thus  musing,  he  wondered, 
but  he  rather  thought  the  ship  was  standing 
stiH.  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it.  The 
sails  were  still  a  little  set,  and  breaths  of  air 
were  still  moving  about ;  but  the  ship  was 
fast,  and  would  not  answer  to  the  helm; 
and,  looking  over  the  side,  he  could  see 
quite  plainly  the  ridge  of  rock  on  which  it 
had  grounded.  He  was  much  amazed  ;  for 
he  had  felt  no  shock  nor  jar,  and  had  taken 
it  as  gently  as  if  it  had  been  a  sunken 
cloud  or  a  spell  in  the  water.  But  there 
he  was,  fast  and  firm  •  and  it  was  no  use 
backing  ihe  sails,  for  he  could  not  move, 
and,  to  make  the  matter  worse,  the  tide 
was  ebbing.  Just  then,  he  noticed  a  sail 
near  hand,  and  signalled  her.  She  proved 
to  be  his  old  friend,  who  had  first  sug- 
gested the  idea  of  this  voyage,  and  who 
himself  had  newly  put  to  sea. 

Voyager.  Well,  here's  an  ugly  trap.  Do 
you  know  what  they  call  this  horrid  reef? 

Friend.  Self-confidence.  There  is  not 
a  worse  shoal  in  all  the  passage. 


226  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

V.  Why,  then,  is  there  no  light  nor 
beacon  over  it  ? 

jF.  There  are  these  buoys.  And  what 
is  the  use  of  your  sounding-line  ?* 

V.  But  was  it  not  curious  that  I  should 
slide  so  softly  on  what  you  say  is  such  a 
dangerous  rock  ? 

J1.  Well,  it  was  just  in  the  same  way 
that  the  good  ship  Galatia  was  wrecked 
long  ago.  She  had  just  parted  with  the 
best  pilot  who  ever  navigated  those  seas  — 
the  famous  pilot,  Paul ;  and  the  last  glimpse 
he  had  of  her  she  was  running  well.  And 
when  word  was  brought  him  that  the  hap- 
less Galatia  was  fast  aground  of  this  treach- 
erous reef,  so  strange  and  unaccountable 
did  it  seem,  that  he  exclaimed,  "  O,  foolish 
Galatians,  who  hath  bewitched  you  ?"  But 
it  is  time  you  were  thinking  what  to  do ; 
for,  if  rough  weather  find  you  here,  you 
must  go  all  to  pieces. 

V.  And  what  shall  I  do  ? 

jF.  Look  yonder ! 
*  Prov  xviii.  12 ;  Rom  xi.  20  ;  2  Cor.  xiii.  5. 


FIRE-FLIES.  227 


And,  as  directed,  the  voyager  looked 
aloft.  And,  though  it  was  bright  day,  there 
shone  in  the  clear  firmament  a  broad  and 
silvery  star.  The  mariner  knew  that  it  was 
the  Star  of  Bethlehem  ;  and.  as  he  intently 
eyed  it,  he  felt  his  pinnace  lifted  off  the 
reef,  and  soon  the  sails  began  to  bulge,  and, 
in  gladness  of  release,  the  vessel  bounded 
on  her  way.* 

Humbled  by  this  mismanagement,  the 
voyager  after  this  consulted  his  chart  more 
carefully,  and  steered  more  exactly  accord- 
ing to  its  minute  directions.  Sometimes 
he  sailed  in  sunshine,  sometimes  in  shade. 
At  times,  the  currents  were  cross,  or  the 
gale  was  in  the  vessel's  eye.  And  then, 
again,  the  wind  blowing  where  it  listeth, 
would  lift  him  fast  along,  and  as  one  bright 
billow  handed  him  to  another,  a  joyous  dit- 
ty would  carol  from  the  deck.  Occasion- 
ly,  he  had  a  convoy  from  another  seeking 
the  same  port,  and  often  without  a  consort 
he  pursued  his  solitary  way. 

*  Phil.  iii.  3,  iv.  13  ;  Psalm  cxxiv.  7. 


228  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

At  last,  a  storm  arose.  There  was  first 
a  lull  and  a  lurid  calm.  A  dusky  red,  a 
bloody  dimness  curtained  the  horizon,  and 
enclosed  the  ship  within  its  thickening  pall. 
There  felt  like  sulphur  in  the  air,  and  the 
breath  grew  short,  and  the  strength  gave 
way,  as  when  some  fearful  thing  is  coming. 
And  when  the  angry  sun  was  set,  and  noth- 
ing sparkled  in  the  blotted  firmament,  and 
deep  was  calling  unto  deep  —  the  moaning 
signals,  in  which  the  spirits  of  desolation 
seem  to  ask,  If  all  be  ready  ?  it  flashed  — 
again  —  again  —  again;  and  the  welkin  was 
fire,  and  the  sea  was  foam ;  and,  amid  the 
splitting  cracks,  and  the  engulfing  flame, 
and  the  rising  hurricane,  it  felt  as  if  the 
quivering  skiff  were  a  tiny  morsel  in 
destruction's  open  jaws.  "  O  my  God, 
my  soul  is  cast  down  within  me.  Deep 
calleth  unto  deep,  at  the  noise  of  thy  water- 
spouts, all  thy  waves  and  thy  billows  are 
gone  over  me."  It  was  the  hour  of  dark- 
ness, and  of  the  prince  of  the  power  of  the 
air,  and  strange  whispers  hissed  through 


FIRE-FLIES.  229 


the  gloom  or  gurgled  up  from  the  weltering 
flood.  One  of  them  suggested,  "  Cast 
away  the  beginning  of  your  confidence." 
Another  murmured,  "  Curse  God  and  die." 
One  yelled,  "  Hell  is  but  a  fable,  and 
heaven  a  poet's  dream."  And  the  ghast- 
liest of  all  was  a  reptile  croak,  "  There  is 
no  God."  And  the  poor  benighted  soul 
began  to  wonder  if  it  could  be  on  the  right 
track  that  all  this  riot  of  horrors  went  on, 
and  feared  that  he  must  have  got  into  some 
fiendish  by-path,  and  almost  wished,  rather 
than  hear  those  blasphemous  voices,  that 
the  deep  would  swallow  him  quick.  But 
from  this  belly  of  hell  he  cried  again,  and 
his  brief  but  piercing  prayer  was  ever  the 
same,  "Lord,  save  —  or  I  perish."  And, 
through  all  the  turmoil  and  din,  that  cry 
was  heard  ;  for  what  is  yon  pavilion  of 
moving  light — that  sunny  shrine  which 
glides  over  the  billows,  and  a  glassy  path 
spreads  out  before  it  ?  What  is  this  pres- 
ence from  whose  distant  ray  the  phantoms 
of  the  pit  have  already  retreated,  and  their 
20 


230  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

foul  accents  died  away  ?  The  bright  and 
morning  star  is  already  on  board  ;  and  to 
the  "  Peace,  be  still,"  which  he  spoke,  the 
obsequious  storm  and  the  crouching  waves 
have  given  instant  answer.  "It  is  I;  be 
not  afraid ;"  and,  though  still  soaked  in 
spray  and  cold  with  terror,  the  presence 
of  his  protector  and  deliverer  restores  the 
sinking  soul.  Assured  that  the  Saviour 
himself  has  taken  the  helm,  he  drops  into  a 
tranquil  slumber,  and,  when  he  awakes,  his 
drenched  garments  are  dry,  and  the  mon- 
soon is  past,  and  those  constant  winds  are 
entered,  which  will  always  blow  the  self- 
same way  till  he  reaches  the  haven  where 
he  fain  would  be. 

As  he  glances  along  on  the  gentle  waters, 
he  takes  out  his  log-book,  and  enters  a 
whole  account  of  the  hurricane.  "  They 
that  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,  that  do 
business  in  the  great  waters ;  these  see  the 
works  of  the  Lord  and  his  wonders  in  the 
deep.  For  he  commandeth  and  raiseth  the 
stormy  wind,  which  lifteth  up  the  waves 


FIRE-FLIES.  231 


thereof.  They  mount  up  to  the  heavens, 
they  go  down  again  to  the  depths  ;  their 
soul  is  melted  because  of  trouble.  Then 
they  cry  unto  the  Lord  in  their  trouble,  and 
he  bringeth  them  out  of  their  distresses. 
He  maketh  the  storm  a  calm,  so  that  the 
waves  thereof  are  still.  Then  are  they  glad 
because  they  be  quiet.  Oh,  that  men  would 
praise  the  Lord  for  his  goodness  and  for  his 
v/onderful  works  to  the  children  of  men." 
And  from  that  time  forward  he  marks  a 
happy  change  in  the  character  of  the  voy- 
age. There  is  more  progress  and  less  vi- 
cissitude. He  has  passed  under  deeper 
skies  and  got  into  steadier  gales.  And  he 
has  fewer  adventures  and  perils  to  record. 
And  he  has  a  serene  and  prevailing  hope 
of  arriving  safe  at  last.  By-and-by,  he  be- 
gins to  notice  fragments  of  sea-weed,  and 
crosses  whole  banks  of  them  ;  but  though 
they  somewhat  hinder  the  ship  and  make 
its  way  more  cumbrous,  he  does  not  grudge 
them,  for  they  tell  that  land  is  Tear.  And 
to  tell  it  still  more  clearly,  by-and-by  new 


232  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

shapes  are  seen — bright  pinions  and  dart- 
ing gems  which  have  come  from  the  hidden 
shore,  and  are  going  back  again.  And 
there  it  comes  itself — the  shore  with  its 
palm-trees  waving  and  its  snowy  temple 
gleaming ;  and  already  he  inhales  the  fresh 
and  balmy  odor  from  distant  forests  and 
unseen  flowers  —  when  some  suspicious 
sail  bounds  toward  him,  some  skulking  cor- 
vette which  prowls  on  its  pirate  outlook  near 
the  very  harbor's  mouth,  and  for  a  moment 
he  marvels  that  such  murderous  robbers 
should  be  suffered  to  cruise  along  the  very 
margin  of  Immanuel's  Land.  But  a  signal 
is  made  from  shore,  "  Resist,  and  he  will 
flee."  And  obedient  to  the  timely  signal, 
the  ship  puts  on  her  fighting  trim  ;  and  no 
sooner  is  the  flag  of  defiance  shaken  out, 
than  the  dark  sail  veers  about,  and,  as  it 
sneaks  away,  a  shout  pursues  it,  "  O  Grave ! 
where  is  thy  victory  ?  O  Death  !  where  is 
thy  stir.g?"  When  the  morrow  dawned, 
it  showed  the  anchor  dropped  and  the  can- 
vass furled  ;  but  it  was  the  fair  haven  of  Im- 


FIRE-FLIES.  233 


mortality,  and  the  voyager  had  got  safe  to 
land. 


THE    DILIGENCE. 

A  friend  of  ours  received  an  invitation 
to  visit  an  illustrious  prince  in  a  foreign 
country.  Our  friend  was  considered  a 
sincere  and  worthy  man,  but  he  had  a  sour 
and  splenetic  temper.  In  the  stage  which 
conveyed  him,  there  were  some  other  pas- 
sengers;  but  as  they  were  strangers,  he  did 
not  speak  to  them.  One  had  a  coat  of  a 
peculiar  fashion,  and  he  set  him  down  for 
a  fop.  Another  had  a  slight  blemish  on  a 
face  otherwise  pleasing ;  but  every  time 
that  our  traveller  turned  that  way,  his  eye 
was  arrested  by  that  scar.  A  third  had  a 
slight  impediment  in  his  speech  ;  but  though 
this,  like  the  rest,  was  a  little  thing,  our 
tourist  held  that  nothing  is  a  trifle  in  so 
serious  a  matter  as  looks  and  language. 
The  strangers,  however,  seemed  to  be  well 
acquainted  with  one  another,  and  from  some 
20* 


234  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

casual  expressions  it  appeared  that  they 
were  all  journeying  to  the  same  place. 
They  failed  to  make  any  impression  on 
their  taciturn  comrade;  and,  admonished 
by  his  short  answers,  they  were  polite 
enough  to  let  him  alone.  It  began  to  rain  ; 
and  as  the  large  drops  swept  in  on  the  pas- 
senger opposite,  he  wished  to  put  up  the 
glass:  but  his  gruff  neighbor  demurred; 
and,  rather  than  have  any  debate,  the  gen- 
tleman wrapped  himself  up  in  his  cloak, 
and  retiring  into  the  corner,  shunned  the 
shower  as  well  as  he  could.  And  so,  stage 
after  stage,  they  journeyed  —  the  three 
happy  and  at  home  with  one  another,  the 
silent  man  moody  and  self-absorbed.  At 
last  the  hills  around  the  mansion  came  in 
sight ;  arid  then  the  enclosing  wall ;  and 
then  the  swelling  lawn,  studded  with  its 
noble  trees ;  and  last  of  all,  the  towers  and 
battlements  of  the  castle  itself  began  to 
appear. 

And  now  the  passengers  began  to  look 
sprightlier,   and   glanced  out   at  the  win- 


FIRE-FLIES.  235 


dows,  as  if  they  knew  it  all,  and  smiled 
to  one  another,  and  began  to  get  things  in 
readiness,  as  if  they,  too,  meant  to  stop 
somewhere  hereabouts.  And  so  they  did  ; 
for  the  moment  the  stage  drew  up  at  the 
castle-gate,  they  all  got  out,  and  it  was  evi- 
dent, from  the  attendants  in  waiting,  that 
they  were  distinguished  visiters.  Two  of 
them  were  special  friends  of  the  prince, 
and  the  one  who  had  borne  the  pelting  of 
the  shower  so  patiently  was  his  brother. 
Our  sullen  traveller  felt  exceedingly  awk- 
ward, and  almost  wished  to  retain  his  place 
in  the  vehicle  and  pass  on.  But  ascer- 
taining who  he  was,  and  that  he  too  was 
bound  for  their  mansion,  the  prince's  brother 
introduced  himself,  and  exerted  all  his 
courtesy  to  supersede  his  apologies  and 
restore  his  self-possession.  By  the  time 
they  reached  the  entrance-door,  the  poor 
man's  confusion  had  somewhat  subsided ; 
but  bitter  were  his  self-reproaches,  and  ve- 
hement his  protestations  that,  if  he  had 
another  journey  to  perform,  he  would  not 


236  THE   HAPPY  HOME. 

be  so  haughty  by  the  way,  nor  look  so  silly 
at  the  journey's  end. 

MORAL. 

Be  not  sectaries  —  be  not  recluses.  Please 
every  one  his  neighbor  for  his  good.  Put 
up  the  window  when  it  rains  on  your  fel- 
low-passenger ;  and  to  do  good  and  com- 
municate, do  not  forget.  Fall  not  out  with 
your  Christian  brethren  by  the  way;  and, 
in  order  to  avoid  painful  discoveries  and 
explanations  when  this  conveyance  of  the 
visible  church  stands  still  and  the  journey 
of  life  is  over,  put  on  no  arrogant  nor 
exclusive  airs  while  you  still  are  fellow- 
travellers. 


THE  FAITHFUL  SERVANT, 

DEAR  READER  :  You  are  away  from 
home.  Perhaps  it  is  not  long  since  you 
left  it,  and  still  your  fondest  thoughts  are 
there.  When  the  house  is  quiet ;  when 
you  can  follow  every  footfall  in  the  street, 
till  it  dies  away  round  the  corner ;  when 
the  fire  burns  low,  and  every  tick  of  the 
clock  comes  loud  and  earnest ;  or  when 
you  chance  to  awaken  up  in  the  lonely 
night,  your  mind  is  sure  to  wander  off  to 
that  loved  dwelling.  Where  is  it?  Is  it 
yon  white  house,  with  the  mountain  behind 
it,  and  the  misty  crags  where  the  eagle 
screams,  and  the  torrent  thunders  down,  in 
the  most  ancient  melody  of  old  and  tuneful 
Wales?  Or  is  it  far,  far  away,  in  the 
highlands  ?  Is  it  thatched  with  broom  and 
brackens,  and  does  a  peat-stack  stand  at  the 
gable  ?  and  out  among  the  crows  and  the 


238 


THE    HAPPY   HOME. 


peeweets,  does  Donald  wrap  round  him  his 
plaid,  and  herd  the  dun  cattle,  till  the  corn 
is  cut  and  the  potato-shaws  are  withered  ? 
Or  is  it  an  English  cottage?  With  its  lit- 
tle lozenge-panes  does  the  casement  unclose 
on  hinges?  and,  when  opened,  does  a  sweet 
air  come  in  from  roses,  and  honeysuckle, 
and  mignionette  ?  Is  it  on  the  edge  of  the 
common,  where  sober  geese  and  gentle 
donkeys  browse  together?  and  near  the 
shaded  pond,  where  the  wagoner  stops  his 
team,  and  cools  their  fetlocks  in  the  dusty 
summer?  Or  is  it  down  the  bushy  lane, 
where,  in  harvest,  blackberries  and  filberts 
ripen,  and  long  threads  of  gossamer  saunter 
about  in  the  golden  air?  Or  near  the  vil- 
lage church?  so  near,  that  when  you  lay 
in  bed  wilh  the  fever,  you  could  hear  the 
choir  and  the  organ  ?  Are  there  alms- 
houses  all  in  a  row  —  six  for  old  men,  and 
six  for  old  women  ?  And  when  they  march- 
ed to  church  on  sabbath  mornings,  how 
many  did  you  count  the  girls  in  blue  frocks 
and  white  mittens  ?  how  many  the  boys  in 


Huppy  Home. 


THE   SORROWFUL   PARTING. 


p.  239 


THE    FAITHFUL    SERVANT. 


round  caps  tufted  with  orange  tops?  Oh, 
yes  !  it  was  a  sweet  place,  where  you  weie 
born  and  bred  ;  and  if  your  father  and 
mother  are  still  alive,  I  do  not  wonder  that 
your  heart  is  often  there. 

Besides,  you  say  that  you  are  not  happy 
here.  The  house  is  grand,  but  it  is  strange. 
Nobody  cares  for  you.  No  one  cheers  you 
with  a  kind  look  or  a  pleasant  word  ;  and 
if  your  loneliness  should  ever  make  you 
dull,  your  fellow-servant  jeers  you.  And 
when  you  think  of  that  sorrowful  afternoon 
when  you  packed  up  your  things,  and  your 
brother  carried  your  box,  and  your  father 
convoyed  you  as  far  as  the  milestone  ;  and 
when  you  feel  again  the  clasp  of  that  dear 
old  hand,  and  seem  to  hear  the  faltering 
voice,  "  God  Almighty  bless  you  !"  your 
heart  is  like  to  break,  and  you  almost  wish 
that  there  were  no  servants  and  no  mistres- 
ses, and  no  need  for  poor  girls  leaving  home 
to  seek  a  place  with  strangers. 

But  dry  that  tear.  I  feel  for  you,  so 
young  and  solitary,  and  I  would  fain  say 


240  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

something  which  might  comfort  you.  Read 
this  letter  carefully,  and  read  it  to  the  end. 

Eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  the  Son 
of  God  came  down  from  heaven,  and  vis- 
ited our  world  ;  and  that  visit  of  his  is  by 
far  the  most  important  event  in  our  world's 
surprising  story.  With  all  the  love  of 
God,  he  came  in  all  the  gentleness  and 
tenderness  of  man  ;  and  his  errand  was  as 
kind  as  his  nature.  He  came  to  save  sin- 
ners. To  purchase  their  pardon,  he  shed 
his  blood  on  the  cross  of  Calvary  ;  and  he 
is  now  gone  back  to  heaven,  a  Prince  and 
a  Saviour,  delighting  to  bestow  repentance 
and  the  remission  of  sins.  And  he  sends 
through  the  world  his  Bible  and  his  minis- 
ters, beseeching  men  to  take  the  benefit  of 
his  most  precious  blood,  and  through  these 
ministers,  and  that  Bible,  saying,  "  Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor,  and  are  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."* 

Jesus  went  back  to  heaven  ;  but  he  left 

*  All  this  is  explained  more  fully  in  the  first  three 
numbers  of  "  The  Happy  Home." 


THE   FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  241 

behind  him  his  apostles.  These  good  men 
went  everywhere  preaching  the  gospel ; 
and,  as  the  Holy  Spirit  was  with  them,  it 
was  wonderful  with  what  speed  they  came 
When  they  told  the  love  of  God  in  sending 
his  dear  Son,  and  the  Saviour's  love  in  dy- 
ing, something  fixed  the  people's  ear,  and 
the  story  moved  their  minds  —  fierce  spirits 
melted,  and  flinty  hearts  flowed  down  ;  and 
from  among  the  roughest  of  mankind  the 
Redeemer  drew  disciples  after  him.  And 
whether  it  was  the  soldier's  barrack,  or  the 
noble's  country-seat  —  whether  it  was  the 
city-mansion,  or  the  tanner's  hut  beside  the 
shore  —  wherever  the  gospel  entered,  it 
brought  holiness,  and  peace,  and  joy.  But 
there  was  no  class  of  persons  to  whom  it 
was  more  welcome  than  to  the  servants  of 
that  time.  Many  of  them  were  actual 
slaves.  They  had  been  torn  away  from 
their  homes  in  the  German  forest  or  on  the 
hills  of  Britain,  and  were  now  in  bondage 
to  the  haughty  Roman.  And  those  of  them 
who  worked  for  wages  were  often  harshly 
21 


242  THE   HAPPY  HOME. 

treated  and  poorly  paid.  But  God  is  no 
respecter  of  persons,  and  the  gospel  was  as 
free  to  Onesimus  as  to  his  rich  master, 
Philemon,  and  brought  the  same  blessings 
to  Rhoda,  the  housemaid,  as  to  Mary,  her 
mistress.  The  kindness  of  that  gospel  won 
the  heart  of  many  a  servant.  They  threw 
away  their  idols  —  they  gave  up  their  sin- 
ful habits,  and  became  the  affectionate  fol 
lowers  of  that  exalted  Saviour  who  was 
once  himself  "  in  the  form  of  a  servant." 
And  as  great  numbers  were  admitted  to  the 
early  church,  they  became  a  special  charge 
to  the  church's  ministers.  Timothy  and 
Titus  preached  so  plainly,  that  the  servants 
understood  them;  and  when  Paul  and  Pe- 
ter wrote  letters  to  their  flocks,  they  usually 
put  in  a  message  to  the  servants.  Their 
labor  was  not  lost.  Many  of  these  converts 
became  bright  Christians.  By  their  mod- 
esty, and  diligence,  and  faithfulness,  they 
commended  the  cause  of  Christ ;  and  when 
times  of  persecution  came,  rather  than 
deny  their  Lord  they  were  ready  to  go  to 


THE   FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  243 

prison  and  lo  death,  and  in  the  early  an* 
nals  of  your  class  have  left  their  martyr 
names. 

The  Lord  Jesus  is  gone  back  to  heaven  ; 
but  he  desires  that  you  too  would  become 
his  disciple.  He  desires  that  you  would 
come  to  him  to  receive  pardon  for  your 
sins,  and  to  get  a  new  and  right  nature. 
He  desires  that  you  would  enter  his  house- 
hold and  become  his  servant  for  ever.  And 
he  offers  to  become  to  you  the  same  gra- 
cious Saviour  and  the  same  Almighty  Friend 
as  he  has  been  to  the  thousands  of  happy 
servants  before  you. 

Believe  the  blessed  Saviour,  and  your 
worst  sorrows  will  be  ended.  Your  earth- 
ly lot  may  be  hard.  Your  work  may  be 
irksome,  your  wages  small,  your  employer 
severe.  Never  mind ;  you  have  promotion 
in  prospect.  The  poor  people  who  come 
begging  to  the  door  often  tell  you,  "  We 
have  seen  better  days  ;"  but  the  Christian 
is  one  whose  best  days  are  "  not  seen  as 
yet."  Eye  hath  not  seen  what  God  has 


244  THE    HAPPY   HOME, 

prepared  for  his  people  ;  and  amid  all  youi 
toils  And  privations  will  it  not  cheer  you  to 
think,  "  My  better  days  are  coming?" 

And  would  it  not  be  delightful  to  have 
always  a  good  employer?  Some  have 
masters  and  mistresses  whom  there  is  no 
pleasure  in  serving.  They  are  stiff  and 
cold,  and  they  feel  no  interest  in  you.  Or 
they  are  coarse  and  bitter  ;  they  give  their 
orders  with  a  threat,  and  reward  you  with 
a  frown.  Or  they  are  mean  and  suspicious  ; 
accusing  you  when  innocent,  and  condemn-- 
ing  you  unheard.  And  you  grudge  to  waste 
your  strength  on  thankless  toil.  It  hurts 
you  to  be  treated  like  a  felon  or  a  foe ;  and 
you  know  not  which  is  hardest — to  be 
blamed  when  you  have  done  no  wrong,  or 
to  win  no  notice  and  no  thanks  when  you 
have  done  your  very  best.  But  you  must 
learn  to  look  higher.  Enter  the  service  of 
the  Lord  Jesus,  and  whatsoever  you  do 
you  will  then  "  do  heartily,  as  unto  the 
Lord,  and  not  unto  men."  Without  leav- 
ing your  present  place  you  will  then  have 


THE   FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  243 


a  Master  wise,  and  kind,  and  worthy  of 
your  utmost  efforts  ;  and  for  his  sake  you 
will  be  "  subject,  not  only  to  the  good  and 
gentle,  but  also  to  the  froward."  And  so 
long  as  they  ask  you  to  do  nothing  sinful, 
whatever  your  earthly  superiors  enjoin,  you 
will  do  it  thoroughly  and  cheerfully,  for  the 
sake  of  your  Master  in  heaven.  As  you 
pursue  your  lonely  task,  and  ply  your  weary 
toil,  you  will  hear  his  own  voice  saying, 
"  Occupy  till  I  come  ;"  and  the  thought 
that  he  has  put  you  there  will  convert  the 
meanest  station  into  a  post  of  honor.  Even 
trials  you  will  hail  as  that  discipline  which 
his  wisdom  prescribes  ;  and  when  nothing 
else  could  keep  up  your  courage,  it  will  be 
enough  to  think  of  the  day  when  —  forgiv- 
ing all  their  faults,  and  only  remembering 
their  labors  of  love  —  he  will  say  to  every 
meek  and  persevering  disciple,  "  Well  done, 
good  and  faithful  servant,  enter  into  the  joy 
of  thy  Lord." 

Besides,  if  you  become   the  servant  of 
the  Lord  Jesus,  you  will  have  an  Almighty 
21* 


246  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

Friend  to  whom  to  go  in  all  your  fears  and 
sorrows.  One  of  your  trials  is  your  lone- 
liness. You  have  no  affectionate  counsel- 
lor now  like  what  you  had  at  home  ;  and 
you  would  be  thankful  for  some  one  who 
would  take  a  kind  interest  in  your  wel- 
fare—  who  would  listen  to  your  griefs  — 
and  who  would  help  you  to  do  what  is 
right,  and  shun  what  is  wrong.  For  that 
purpose,  there  is  no  friend  like  the  Saviour ; 
none  so  wise,  so  powerful,  so  holy;  and, 
what  makes  him  the  very  one  you  need,  he 
is  a  Friend  constantly  at  hand.  You  do 
not  see  him,  but  he  is  ever  present,  and 
will  hear  you  if  you  pray.  Tell  him  of 
your  sins  and  temptations,  and  he  will  help 
you  to  overcome  them.  Tell  him  of  your 
troubles,  and  he  will  comfort  you.  Tell 
him  of  your  difficulties,  and  perhaps,  while 
you  are  yet  speaking,  they  will  vanish  and 
disappear.  And  though  you  may  not  have 
much  opportunity  for  prayer,  the  Lord  is 
very  pitiful ;  and  just  as  he  heard  Nehe- 
miah  with  the  king's  wine-cup  in  his 


THE    FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  247 

hand,  and  answered  the  prayer  which 
Eliezer  offered  as  he  knelt  beside  his  mas- 
ter's camel,  so,  if  you  are  really  earnest, 
the  Lord  will  hear  the  petition  which  you 
breathe  to  him  at  any  time  and  in  any 
place.  I  lately  read  of  a  servant,  in  Scot- 
land, who  could  get  no  retirement  in  the 
house,  but  she  used  to  pray  silently  as  she 
went  to  the  well  for  water;  "and  often," 
she  said,  "  as  I  stood  beside  the  well, 
the  same  condescending  Redeemer  who 

o 

manifested  himself  to  the  poor  woman  at 
Jacob's  well,  revealed  himself  to  me." 
And  do  you  take  for  the  guide  of  your 
youth  that  Saviour,  as  merciful  as  he  is 
almighty,  and  then  you  can  never  be  friend- 
less or  forlorn.  To  all  your  cares  and  sor- 
rows his  ear  will  be  ever  open ;  and,  while 
no  danger  nor  distress  can  escape  his  watch- 
ful eye,  through  every  stage  of  life  and  in 
every  scene  of  action,  he  will  graciously 
uphold  you  by  the  Holy  Spirit's  comfort 
and  control. 

Dear  reader,  will  you  not,  from  this  tima 


248  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

onward,  love  and  serve  this  Saviour?  Will 
you  not  go  to  him,  and  beg  that  he  would 
receive  a  poor,  unworthy  sinner,  who  has 
heard  of  his  kindness,  and  who  nopes  in 
his  mercy?  Will  you  not  intrust  to  him 
the  keeping  of  your  soul,  and  the  care  of 
all  your  interests  ?  And  as  he  most  wil- 
lingly receives  you,  so  will  not  you  humbly 
and  diligently  follow  him  ?  And  are  you 
not  saying  already,  u  Lord,  what  wouldst 
thou  have  me  to  do  ? — Speak,  Lord,  for 
thy  servant  heareth  ?" 

Yes,  and  to  you  the  Lord  hath  spoken. 
He  who  gave  the  Bible,  had  a  great  care 
for  servants ;  and  to  copy  all  the  passages 
especially  suited  to  you  would  fill  this  pa- 
per. I  hope  you  will  search  them  out, 
and  mark  them  when  you  find  them,  and 
read  them  often  over.  In  the  meanwhile, 
as  a  specimen,  here  are  three.  Listen  to 
the  voice  of  Jesus,  and  let  the  holy  accents 
sink  into  your  inmost  soul : — 

"  Servants,  obey  in  all  things  your  mas- 
ters according  to  the  flesh  ;  not  with  eye- 


THE   FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  249 

service,  as  men-pleasers  ;  but  in  singleness 
of  heart,  fearing  God  :  and  whatsoever  ye 
do,  do  it  heartily,  as  to  the  Lord,  and  not 
unto  men ;  knowing  that  of  the  Lord  ye 
shall  receive  the  reward  of  the  inheritance  : 
for  ye  serve  the  Lord  Christ.  But  he  that 
doeth  wrong  shall  receive  for  the  wrong 
which  he  hath  done  :  and  there  is  no  re- 
spect of  persons."* 

"  Exhort  servants  to  be  obedient  unto 
their  own  masters,  and  to  please  them  well 
in  all  things ;  not  answering  again  :  not 
purloining,  but  showing  all  good  6delity; 
that  they  may  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God 
our  Saviour  in  all  things.  For  the  grace 
of  God  that  bringeth  salvation  hath  ap- 
peared to  all  men,  teaching  us  that,  denying 
ungodliness  and  worldly  lusts,  we  should 
live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly,  in  this 
present  world ;  looking  for  that  blessed 
hope,  and  the  glorious  appearing  of  tho 
great  God  and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ; 
who  gave  himself  for  us,  that  he  might 
*  Colossians,  iiL  22-25. 


250  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  and  purify  unto 
himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of  good 
works."* 

"  Servants,  be  subject  to  your  masters 
with  all  fear;  not  only  to  the  good  and 
gentle,  but  also  to  the  froward.  For  this 
is  thankworthy,  if  a  man  for  conscience 
toward  God  endure  grief,  suffering  wrong- 
fully. For  what  glory  is  it,  if,  when  ye  be 
buffeted  for  your  faults,  ye  shall  take  it 
patiently?  but  if,  when  ye  do  well,  and 
suffer  for  it,  ye  take  it  patiently,  this  is  ac- 
ceptable with  God.  For  even  hereunto 
were  ye  called  :  because  Christ  also  suf- 
fered for  us,  leaving  us  an  example,  that  ye 
should  follow  his  steps  :  who  did  no  sin, 
neither  was  guile  found  in  his  mouth  :  who, 
when  he  was  reviled,  reviled  not  again  ; 
when  he  suffered,  he  threatened  not;  but 
committed  himself  to  him  that  judgeth  right- 
eously: who  his  ovvnself  bare  our  sins  in 
his  own  body  on  the  tree,  that  we,  being 
dead  to  sins,  should  live  unto  righteous* 
*  Titus,  ii.  9-14. 


THE   FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  251 

ness :  by  whose  stripes  ye  were  healed. 
For  ye  were  as  sheep  going  astray;  but  are 
now  returned  unto  the  Shepherd  and  Bishop 
of  your  souls."* 

From  these  passages,  you  see  that  your 
first  duty  is  obedience.  Of  course,  you 
must  not  tell  lies,  nor  do  anything  wicked, 
to  please  your  employer ;  but  so  long  as 
you  remain  in  his  service,  and  so  long  as 
his  commands  do  not  contradict  the  com- 
mands of  God,  you  must  do  whatever  he 
bids  you.  And  do  it  cheerfully :  even  if 
you  would  rather  be  doing  something  else, 
still  "  do  it  heartily;  do  it  as  to  the  Lord, 
and  not  unto  men."  The  beauty  of  obe- 
dience is  its  frankness.  There  was  a  youth 
to  whom  his  father  said,  "  Go  work  in  my 
vineyard  to-day:"  but  he  answered,  cross- 
ly, "  I  will  not."  It  was  not  that  he  wag 
particularly  lazy,  nor  that  he  had  no  love 
to  his  father ;  for,  on  thinking  better  about 
it,  he  laid  off  his  coat  and  took  up  his  tools, 
and  when  his  father  stepped  into  the  vine 

*  1  Peter  ii.  18-25. 


252  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

yard  by-and-by,  the  lad  was  at  work  like  a 
hero.  But  it  was  a  great  pity,  tbat  churl- 
ish answer ;  it  left  a  pang  in  his  parent's 
heart,  and  it  was  not  till  he  had  made  it  up 
with  his  father,  that  he  felt  quite  right  in 
his  own.  And  if  you  would  do  your  work 
with  comfort,  do  it  cheerfully,  and  do  it  in- 
stantly. Never  "  answer  again ;"  and  let 
it  never  be  seen,  by  your  sour  or  lowering 
countenance,  that  you  are  vexed  at  any 
order.  The  way  to  make  it  easy  is  to  take 
it  heartily ;  and  the  way  to  make  masters  and 
mistresses  kind  and  considerate,  is  for  ser- 
vants to  be  cordial  at  their  work,  and  cheer- 
ful in  their  compliance.  But  a  very  foolish 
plan  is  first  to  sulk,  and  then  to  obey:  it 
loses  time,  it  loses  credit,  and  it  loses  good 
situations. 

We  can  scarcely  lay  too  much  stress 
upon  temper  ;  for  few  tempers  are  naturally 
good,  and  yours  is  exposed  to  many  trials. 
Sometimes  you  are  called  away  in  the 
midst  of  your  work,  and  the  labor  of  an 
hour  is  lost.  Or  you  are  ordered  to  attend 


THE   FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  253 

to  some  matter  which  does  not  belong  to 
your  department;  or  fellow-servants  play 
tricks  on  you,  and,  instead  of  helping  you, 
increase  your  trouble  ;  or  you  are  obliged 
to  sit  up  late  and  rise  early,  and,  out  of 
sorts  and  out  of  spirits,  you  grow  morose 
and  miserable.  And  it  must  be  confessed 
that  this  is  trying  to  flesh  and  blood  ;  but, 
just  on  account  of  these  trials,  you  are  the 
more  bound  to  pray  for  a  meek  and  quiet 
spirit.  To  its  possessor  it  is  not  only  an 
"  ornament,"*  but  an  unspeakable  comfort. 
Even  where  no  sharp  answer  is  given,  peo- 
ple do  not  like  to  hear  doors  slamming, 
and  porcelain  smashing,  and  fire-irons  rat 
ding,  and  other  signs  of  the  tempest  down 
stairs;  but  be  they  "  ("reward"  themselves, 
or  be  they  good  and  gentle,  they  like  to  see 
their  attendants  calm  and  courteous.  They 
like  that  their  door  should  be  opened  to 
their  friends,  by  one  who  wears  a  welcome 
in  her  smiling  faee,  and  they  feel  it  a  per- 
sonal compliment  when  every  office  is  peiv 
*  1  Petei  iii.  4. 

22 


254  THE   HAPPY   HOME 


formed  with  mild  alacrity  and  evident  good 
will.  Even  though  they  may  not  like  your 
piety,  they  will  prize  your  politeness,  and 
by  your  civil  and  respectful  demeanor,  you 
will  adorn  the  religion  you  profess.  And 
you  will  smooth  your  daily  path,  and  per- 
form life's  journey  more  pleasantly.  You 
have  looked  at  a  country  cart;  and  when 
there  was  need  of  haste,  it  was  a  clumsy 
sight  to  see  it  lurching  and  hobbling  along 
the  road,  and  a  harsh  tune  to  listen  to  its 
screeching  axle  and  jangling  gear,  till  some 
projecting  stone  capsized  it,  and  it  spread 
from  ditch  to  dike,  a  wreck  of  splintered 
deals  and  broken  spars.  And  along  the 
same  road  you  have  seen  the  chariot  speed- 
ing, and  as  on  liquid  axle  and  jaunty  springs 
it  skimmed  the  track,  and  courtesied  over 
the  clods  and  the  stones,  its  flight  was 
silent  and  steady,  as  if  wings  opened  and 
shut  from  every  wheel.  So  is  it  painful  to 
see  a  fitful  temper  jolting  and  jarring  along 
its  rugged  course,  provoked  at  every  hin- 
derance,  announcing  its  progress  by  per- 


THE    FAITHFUL    SERVANT. 


pelual  discord,  and  'finally  upset  by  some 
little  interruption,  which  a  more  elastic 
spirit  would  have  lightly  glided  over.  And 
a  happy  thing  it  is  to  see  that  wretched 
temper  changed,  and  as  it  revolves  through 
daily  duties,  vaulting  over  annoyances  and 
stumbling-hlocks,  and  holding  on  its  way 
with  neither  dust  nor  din.  Ruth  Clark, 
whose  story  you  would  do  well  to  read, 
once  had  a  violent  temper;  but  after  the 
grace  of  God  had  reached  her,  she  began 
to  watch  and  pray  against  this  proud  spirit, 
and  so  entirely  was  it  subdued,  th^t  "  per- 
sons living  constantly  with  her  would  nevei 
have  suspected  that  she  had  formerly  been 
its  slave."  And,  however  unruly  your 
spirit  at  present  is,  if  you  strive  constantly 
against  it,  and  cry  for  help  to  the  Lamb  of 
God,  he  will  give  you  the  victory,  and 
bless  you  with  a  spirit  like  his  own  — 
"  gentle,  meek,  and  mild." 

Whatever  be  the  place  you  hold,  you 
can  not  discharge  its  duties  without  good 
sense,  as  well  as  good  health  and  good 


256  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

principle  ;  but  if  already  blessed  with  these 
mercies,  there  is  nothing  to  hinder  you 
from  becoming  a  first-rate  servant;  and, 
whatever  may  be  his  calling  in  life,  every 
Christian  should  be  first-rate  in  his  own 
department.  In  every  calling,  however,  it 
needs  pains  and  perseverance  to  reach  per- 
fection. It  was  by  long  practice,  and  after 
many  lessons,  that  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence 
became  a  first-rate  painter ;  and  it  was  by 
great  humility,  and  by  taking  hints  from 
every  one,  that  John  Dalton  became  a  first- 
vate  chemist ;  and  it  is  by  like  means  that 
you  are  to  become  a  first  rate  servant.  Be 
humble,  and  then  you  will  be  thankful  foi 
every  hint.  You  will  observe  how  oldei 
and  more  accomplished  servants  do  their 
work,  and  you  will  try  and  try  again,  till 
you  can  do  it  as  well  as.  they.  And  when 
your  mistress  or  a  friend  is  kind  enough  to 
explain  any  process,  you  will  carefully 
attend,  and  not  need  to  be  told  it  again. 
And  thus,  step  by  step,  you  will  get  on, 
till  you  become  so  neat  and  orderly,  that, 


THE   FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  257 

in  all  your  little  realm  of  rooms  and 
cupboards,  everything  will  find  its  proper 
place,  and  wear  its  tidiest  look  ;  so  accu- 
rate and  punctual,  that  you  will  forget  no 
messages,  and  will  have  all  things  ready  at 
the  minute ;  so  dexterous  and  expert,  that 
it  will  seem  as  if  there  were  a  charm  in 
your  finger-points,  and  as  if  every  article 
you  touched  understood  your  meaning ;  so 
calm  and  self-possessed,  that  confusion  will 
clear  up,  and  disorder  will  arrange  itself 
when  you  come  in  ;  so  thoughtful  and  con- 
siderate, that  you  will  find  out  employment 
for  yourself,  and  attend  to  matters  which, 
but  for  you,  would  be  omitted  :  and  when 
you  have  reached  this  degree  of  skill  and 
experience,  it  will  be  no  flattery  to  call 
you  a  first-rate  servant.* 

*  Those  who  are  anxious  to  improve  will  find  many 
useful  hints  in  "the  Servants'  Magazine" — a  penny 
periodical  published  monthly  by  the  "  Female  Aid  Soci- 
ety." This  society  has  done  much  good ;  and  it  may 
be  useful  to  mention,  here,  that  it  maintains  a  "  Ser- 
vants' Home  and  Registry"  at  No.  5  Millman  street, 
near  Hedford  row,  where  respectable  female  servants  are 

22* 


THE   HAPPY   HOME. 


1  ry  to  do  good  in  the  place  of  your 
sojourn.  When  Mr.  Fletcher,  of  Madeley, 
was  tutor  in  a  Shropshire  family,  he  had 
some  respect  for  religion,  but  not  enough 
to  make  him  religious.  One  sabbath  even- 
ing, a  pious  servant  came  into  his  study  to 
make  up  the  fire,  and  seeing  him  writing 
music,  she  said,  with  deep  concern,  "Oh, 
sir!  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  so  employed  on 
the  Lord's  day."  And  though  very  angry 
at  the  moment,  after  she  went  out,  he  put 
away  the  music,  and  never  copied  any 
more  on  the  sabbath.  I  am  not  sure,  how- 
ever, that  reproof  is  the  best  way  of  doing 
good  to  superiors.  A  word  modestly  spo- 
ken, and  by  a  person  of  tried  consistency, 


lodged,   and   assisted  in  finding  situations,   at   a  very 
moderate  charge. 

In  the  same  neighborhood  —  that  is,  at  No.  22  New 
Ormond  street  —  is  a  school  for  training  servants,  main 
tained  by  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Kinnaird  and  her  friends.  A 
hundred  girls  are  at  present  attending  it,  who,  but  for 
its  advantages,  would  never  have  been  fit  for  respect- 
able service.  We  mention  it  here,  partly  to  record  the 
delight  we  have  experienced  in  visiting  it,  and  partly  in 
the  hope  that  it  may  suggest  to  some  benevolent  reader 
the  establishment  of  similar  institutions  elsewhere. 


THE    FAITHFUL    SERVANT. 


may  sometimes  prove  a  word  in  season, 
but  it  is  more  likely  to  be  resented  as  rude- 
ness, and  you  may  only  irritate  those 
whom  you  meant  to  reform.  Far  more 
effectual  is  the  silent  eloquence  of  a  lowly, 
cheerful,  and  obliging  piety;  and  if  some 
have  been  repelled  from  the  gospel  by  the 
preaching  tone  and  arrogant  air  of  servants 
who  professed  it,  others  have  been  won 
by  the  gainly  demeanor  of  servants  who 
adorned  it.  But  try  to  do  good  to  your 
fellow-servants.  If  you  are  enabled  to  live 
soberly,  righteously,  and  godly;  if  they  see 
you  correct,  and  truthful,  and  devout,  but 
if  at  the  same  time  you  are  kind  and  affable, 
you  will  gain  great  influence  over  them  ; 
and  by  lending  them  books,  or  persuading 
them  to  come  with  you  to  the  house  of 
God,  you  may  confer  a  lasting  blessing  on 
their  souls.  And  if  you  have  the  charge 
of  children,  teach  them  texts  and  hymns, 
and  speak  to  them  affectionately  about  the 
Saviour,  and  tell  them  Bible  stories,  and 
warn  them  with  solemn  tenderness  against 


260  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

lying,  arid  pride,  and  quarrelling,  and 
selfishness,  and  the  other  sins  of  child- 
hood. 

A  young  girl  once  went  to  a  thoughtless 
family  in  the  north  of  Ireland.  She  loved 
her  Bible,  but  the  young  ladies  on  whom 
she  waited  laughed  at  her  religion.  She 
tried  all  she  could  to  be  attentive  and  use- 
ful to  them  ;  and  to  please  her  they  some- 
times let  her  read  aloud  a  chapter  when  they 
had  gone  to  bed.  But  by-and-by  a  dan- 
gerous sickness  seized  her.  It  was  a  fever, 
and  her  young  friends  were  not  allowed  to 
see  her,  but  they  heard  how  happy  she  was 
amidst  all  her  sufferings.  And  after  she 
had  gone  to  Jesus,  the  two  oldest  remem- 
bered what  she  used  to  say  while  yet  with 
them,  and  began  to  read  the  Bible  for 
themselves,  till  they  found  peace  in  the 
same  Saviour,  and  till  at  last  religion  spread 
through  this  once  careless  family.  Happy 
maid !  when  she  meets  on  high  the  en- 
deared objects  of  her  prayers,  and  this  in- 
hoped  result  of  her  gentle  piety. 


THE    FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  261 

Will  you  permit  me  to  add  that  few 
classes  in  modern  society  are  so  rich  as 
domestic  servants?  You  have  no  rent,  no 
rates  to  pay ;  you  need  buy  neither  coalg 
nor  candles,  nor  food,  nor  (clothing  except- 
ed)  any  of  those  endless  commodities  which 
daily  tax  the  householder ;  and,  though 
your  income  is  small,  you  yourself  are  rich, 
for  you  might  easily  save  the  half  of  it. 
Sad  pity  that  so  many  squander  on  treats 
or  useless  trinkets  the  wages  for  which  they 
work  so  hard  !  Would  it  not  be  nobler  to 
do  as  some  have  done,  and  educate  a  nephew, 
or  young  brother?  or  do  as  others  have 
done,  and  maintain  in  comfort  an  infirm  or 
aged  parent?  And  would  it  not  be  wiser 
to  lay  up  a  good  foundation  against  the 
coming  time,  and,  by  putting  aside  a  month- 
ly or  yearly  sum,  to  build  a  bulwark  be- 
tween yourself  and  future  poverty  ?  That 
shilling  which  you  spent  at  the  pastry-cook's 
would  have  bought  a  Bible  for  a  heathen 
family.  That  crown  which  you  lavished 
on  the  brooch  or  the  bracelet  would  have 


262  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

bought  a  blanket  for  your  poor  old  grand- 
father, and  many  a  time  would  his  palsied 
lirnbs  have  thanked  you  during  these  bitter 
nights.  And  those  sovereigns  and  tens  of 
pounds  which  have  melted  away,  you  know 
not  how,  had  the  bank  or  the  benefit  fund* 
received  them,  with  what  a  lightened  look 
might  you  now  survey  those  hapless  years 
when  you  shall  be  able  to  work  or  earn  no 
longer !  What  think  you  ?  Will  you 
henceforth  try  the  plan  of  frugality  and  self- 

*  There  is  such  a  fund  connected  with  the  Servants' 
Benevolent  Institution,  32  Sackville  street.  Servants 
sometimes  lend  money  to  relatives  commencing  business, 
or  to  persons  who  offer  them  a  tempting  interest.  Now, 
a  tempting  interest  just  means  a  terrible  risk.  It  means 
that  the  borrower  is  so  unlikely  ever  to  return  the  loan, 
that  people  whose  business  it  is  to  lend  money  can  not 
trust  them  ;  and  therefore  he  is  obliged  to  offer  six  and 
eight  per  cent,  to  servants,  and  widowed  ladies,  and 
people  who  know  nothing  of  business,  and  are  likely  to 
take  the  bait.  In  regard  to  relations :  it  may  often  be 
kind  and  helpful  to  give  them  a  present  of  money,  but 
a  loan  is  neither  kind  nor  helpful.  It  is  not  kind,  for 
you  give  it  with  the  hope  of  getting  it  all  again ;  and  it 
is  not  helpful,  for  "  easily  gotten  quickly  goes  ;"  and  at 
the  end  of  the  year  they  will  need  it  as  much  as  ever. 
In  giving,  you  only  hope  for  gratitude,  and  are  pretty 
sure  to  get  it :  in  lending,  people  hope  for  both  grati- 
tude and  repayment,  and  usually  get  neither. 


THE    FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  263 

denial?  Will  you  try  how  little  may  suffice 
for  your  present  self,  and  bow  much  you 
can  save  for  your  aged  and  worn-out  self? 
and  how  much  you  can  spare  for  those  dear 
ones  who  do  not  fare  so  well  nor  lodge  so 
pleasantly  as  you  ?  Will  you  just  count  up 
how  much  you  have  expended  on  the  "  lust 
of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life  ?"  on  dress, 
and  vanity,  and  idle  show  ?  These  fancies 
did  yon  no  service  at  the  time,  and  they 
all  have  perished  in  the  using.  Be  per- 
suaded, how,  to  try  the  more  excellent 
plan  ;  and  though  you  may  find  it  hard  at 
first  to  pass  bright  ribands  and  silken  bar- 
gains, there  is  a  threefold  pleasure  which 
will  soon  requite  you :  the  sweetness  of 
self-denial,  the  comfort  of  having  somewhat 
provided  against  evil  days,  and  the  luxury 
of  doing  good. 

But  you  say  that  I  have  quite  mistaken 
in  supposing  you  unhappy  in  your  present 
place.  The  family  in  which  Providence 
has  cast  your  lot  is  kind  and  considerate. 
It  is  a  family  in  which  God  is  feared  and 


264  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

worshipped,  and  you  are  encouraged  to 
frequent  his  house,  and  sanctify  his  sabbath. 
If  so,  determine  that  no  whim  nor  miscon- 
duct of  yours  shall  ever  part  you  from  God's 
people.  Put  forth  your  utmost  efforts  to 
win  their  confidence,  and  let  cheerful  in- 
dustry be  your  daily  thank-offering  to  Him 
who  has  so  highly  favored  you.  And, 
though  a  Christian  servant  will  not  waste 
her  master's  property,  whosoever  that  mas- 
ter be,  it  is  a  great  comfort  when  you  think 
that  the  food  or  fuel  which  you  save,  or  the 
furniture  of  which  you  are  so  careful,  is 
something  husbanded  for  the  poor,  or  for 
the  Christian  treasury.  And,  though  a 
Christian  servant  will  be  active,  and  obliging, 
and  orderly,  whatever  her  employers  are, 
she  has  another  motive  added,  when  she 
thinks  that  her  civility,  and  neatness,  and 
good  sense,  are  increasing  the  happiness  of 
a  Christian  home.  Melancthon,  the  great 
reformer,  was  not  rich,  but  he  loved  to  show 
hospitality,  and  he  needed  to  buy  books,  and 
travel  a  great  deal  in  the  service  of  the 


THE    FAITHFUL    SERVANT.  265 

church,  and  he  often  said  that  he  owed  it  all 
to  the  good  management  of  his  old  and 
faithful  servant,  John  of  Sweden.  And 
just  as  we  have  known  pious  servants,  who, 
rather  than  leave  a  pious  family,  would  have 
continued  to  serve  for  nothing,  so  we  have 
also  known  Christian  families  who,  rather 
than  see  a  faithful  servant  homeless  in  her 
declining  days,  were  glad  to  retain,  as  an 
old  friend,  the  inmate  whom  they  had  first 
received  beneath  their  roof  as  a  servant— 
;c  not  now  a  servant,  but  a  mother,  a  sister 
oeloved  in  the  Lord." 


THE   TRUE   DISCIPLE. 

THIS  concluding  paper  the  author  respectfully  in- 
scribes to  his  more  thoughtful  readers.  He  has  been 
frequently  told  that  his  essays  are  above  the  compre- 
hension of  "working  people;"  but  that  complaint  has 
seldom  come  from  themselves.  Among  hard-workers 
there  are  many  hard-thinkers,  and  there  are  thousands 
whose  capacity  and  education  are  at  least  equal  to  any- 
thing contained  in  the  foregoing  pages.  With  an  eye 
to  that  honorable  class,  the  readers  and  the  thinkers 
among  his  industrious  fellow-citizens,  the  author  has 
written  most  of  the  bygone  numbers;  and  ?f  some  of  the 
following  paragraphs  are  not  so  plain  as  they  ought  to 
be,  he  would  humbly  beg  for  them  the  benefit  of  a  sec- 
ond perusal — November  27,  1848 

EVER  since  the  world  sinned  and  woke 
up  to  misery,  there  is  one  absentee  whom 
all  have  agreed  in  deploring.  Every  age 
has  asked  tidings  of  her  from  the  age  that 
went  before,  and  from  the  one  which  Came 
after ;  and  even  the  most  indolent  have  put 
forth  an  effort,  and  have  joined  their  neigh- 
bors in  searching  for  this  fugitive.  Some 


Happy  Home. 


-THE   TRUE   DISCIPLE. 


p  266 


THE    TRUE    DISCIPLE  267 

have  dived  into  the  billowy  main,  and  sought 
her  in  pearly  grottoes  and  coral  caves.  And 
some  have  bored  into  the  solid  rock,  and 
rummaged  for  her  in  the  mountain  roots. 
And  some  have  risen  to  where  the  eagles 
poise,  and  have  scanned  in  successive  hori- 
zons the  habitable  surface ;  but  all  have 
got  the  same  report.  "  Where  is  happi- 
ness?"—  "Not  in  me,"  cries  the  leafy 
grove ;  "  nor  in  rne,"  booms  the  sounding 
tide;  "nor  in  me,"  rumbles  gaunt  and  hol- 
low from  the  dusky  mine.  And  failing  to 
delect  her  in  life's  by-paths  and  open  ways, 
her  votaries  have  reared  decoys  or  shrines 
into  which  she  haply  might  turn  aside. 
But  all  of  them  have  failed  entirely.  Thea- 
tres, dancing-saloons,  gin-palaces,  racing- 
booths —  there  is  no  authentic  instance  that 
she  ever  entered  one  of  them.  And  though 
some  have  fancied  that  they  glimpsed  her 
— "  yes,  yes,"  they  whisper,  "yonder  she 
passed  ;  and  in  that  hall  of  science,  in  that 
temple  of  knowledge,  in  that  sweet  home, 
you'll  find  her ;"  by  the  time  you  reached 


268  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

it,  there  was  a  death's-head  at  the  door, 
and  a  "  Mene  Tekel"  on  the  wall.  "  Not 
in  me,"  sighed  vain  philosophy  ;  and  "  not 
in  rne,"  re-echoed  the  worldling's  rifled 
home. 

But  where  ,s  happiness?  Man  knows 
that  she  is  not  dead  but  disappeared  ;  and 
ever  since  under  the  forbidden  tree  he  ate 
the  bitter-sweet  and  startled  her  away,  he 
has  longed  to  find  that  other  and  enlighten- 
ing fruit  which  would  reveal  her  to  his  eyes 
again.  And  this  is  the  boon  which  the 
world's  teachers  have  undertaken  to  supply, 
They  have  come  from  time  to  time,  seers 
and  sages,  Thales,  Pythagoras,  Zoroaster, 
Epicurus,  Con-fu-tze,  and  to  humanity's 
wondering  gaze  they  have  held  up  apples, 
as  they  said,  fresh  gathered  from  the  Tree 
of  Life.  But  after  rushing  and  jostling 
round  them,  and  getting  at  great  cost  a  prize, 
these  all  proved  naught  to  the  hungry  buy- 
er. The  golden  apples  were  mere  make- 
believes  ;  hollow  rinds,  painted  shells  filled 
up  with  trash  or  trifles.  Some  ate,  and  stil] 


THE    TRUE   DISCIPLE.  269 

their  soul  had  appetite  ;  others  ate,  and  were 
poisoned. 

At  last,  along  the  path  which  a  hundred 
prophecies  had  carved  and  smoothed,  "  the 
desire  of  all  nations" — the  Son  of  God  — 
appeared.  And  from  the  paradise  above 
he  fetched  the  long-lost  secret.  Himself 
"  the  truth  ;"  his  every  sentence  freighted 
with  majesty,  and  fragrant  with  heaven's 
sanctity ;  it  needed  not  the  frequent  miracle 
to  compel  the  exclamation,  "  Rabbi,  we 
know  that  thou  art  a  teacher  come  from 
God."  He  did  not  reason  ;  he  revealed. 
His  sayings  were  not  the  conjectures  of 
keen  sagacity,  nor  even  the  recollections 
of  an  angel  visiter ;  but  they  were  authori- 
tative words  —  the  insight  of  Omniscience, 
the  oracle  of  incarnate  Deity.  And  giving 
freely  to  all  comers  "  the  apples  of  gold" 
from  his  "  basket  of  silver,"  the  dim  and 
the  famished  ate,  and  with  open  eyes  look- 
ing up,  in  himself  they  recognised  the  an- 
swer to  the  ancient  query.  "  What  is  hap- 
piness ?" — "Come  unto  me,"  is  the  Sa- 
23* 


270  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

viour's  reply  ;  "  come  unto  me,  all  ye  that 
labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and 
learn  of  me  ;  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in 
heart :  and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your 
souls."  —  "  Where  is  happiness?"  Here, 
at  the  feet  of  Immanuel.  And  then,  and 
since,  thousands  have  verified  the  saying. 
In  the  words  of  Jesus  they  have  discovered 
the  boon  for  which  their  understandings 
longed  —  conclusive  and  soul-filling  knowl- 
edge ;  and  in  his  person  and  work  they  have 
found  the  good  for  which  their  conscience 
craved  —  a  saving  and  sanctifying  Power. 

To  (he  great  question,  What  is  happi- 
ness ?  Jesus  is  the  embodied  answer — • 
at  once  the  teacher  and  the  lesson.  The 
question  had  been  asked  for  ages,  and  some 
hundred  solutions  had  been  proposed.  And 
in  the  outset  of  his  ministry  the  Saviour  took 
it  up,  and  gave  the  final  answer.  What  is 
happiness?  u  Happy  are  the  humble. 
Happy  are  the  contrite.  Happy  are  the 
meek.  Happy  are  they  who  hunger  after 


THE    TKUE    DISCIPLE.  271 


righteousness.  Happy  are  the  merciful, 
the  pure  in  heart,  the  peace-makers,  the 
men  persecuted  for  righteousness."*  In 
*  The  reader  could  not  do  better  than  go  carefully 
over  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  He  will  find  it  in  the 
fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh  chapters  of  Matthew.  Wo 
have  known  of  repeated  instances  where  persons  re- 
ceived their  first  prepossession  for  Christianity  from  that 
matchless  effusion  of  incarnate  goodness.  The  follow- 
ing passage  occurs  in  Sir  James  Mackintosh's  Indian 
Journal  :  "  I  have  just  glanced  over  Jeremy  Taylor  on 
the  Beatitudes.  The  selection  is  made  in  the  most 
sublime  spirit  of  virtue.  Of  their  transcendent  excel- 
lence I  can  find  no  words  to  express  my  admiration  and 
reverence.  <  Blesse'd  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  ob- 
tain mercy.' — <  Put  on,  my  beloved,  as  the  elect  of  God, 
bowels  of  mercy.'  At  last  the  divine  speaker  rises  to 
the  summit  of  moral  sublimity.  *  Blessed  are  they  who 
are  persecuted  for  righteousness'  sake.'  For  a  moment, 
O  teacher  blessed,  I  taste  the  unspeakable  delight  of 
feeling  myself  to  be  better.  I  feel,  as  in  the  days  of  my 
youth,  that  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness,  which 
long  habits  of  infirmity,  and  the  low  concerns  of  the 
world,  have  contributed  to  extinguish." — Life  ii.,  125. 
At  the  moment  when  he  wrote  these  words,  we  fear 
that  this  fine  intellect  was  skeptical.  It  was  far  other- 
wise at  last.  His  daughter  says,  telling  of  his  latter 
hours,  "  I  said  to  him,  'Jesus  Christ  loves  you ;'  he  an- 
swered slowly,  and,  pausing  between  each  word,  <  Jesus 
Christ — love — the  same  thing.'  He  uttered  these  last 
words  with  a  most  sweet  smile.  After  a  long  silence  he 
said,  * I  believe — .'  We  said,  in  a  voice  of  inquiry,  <  in 
God?'  He  answered,  « in  Jesus.'  He  spoke  but  once 
more  after  this.  Upon  our  inquiry  how  he  felt,  he  said 
he  was  <  happy.' " 


272  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

other  words,  he  declared  that  happiness 
is  goodness.  A  holy  nature  is  a  happy 
one.  But  was  not  that  a  blank  and  con- 
founding announcement  ?  To  tell  the 
wicked  people  all  around  him  —  the  fierce, 
and  quarrelsome,  and  licentious  spirits  who 
thronged  the  mountain  side,  "  Blessed  are 
the  merciful,  the  pure,  the  peaceful ;"  was 
not  that  to  lay  a  gravestone  on  their  hopes  ? 
Was  it  not  saying  to  his  auditors,  "  Happi- 
ness is  goodness,  and  so  it  never  can  be 
yours  ?"  And  had  the  teaching  of  Jesus 
ended  there,  he  would  have  left  mankind  in 
gloomy  possession  of  a  glorious  truth  ;  he 
would  have  left  it  a  wiser  but  a  sadder 
world.  But  in  the  minds  of  such  as  felt 
themselves  guilty  and  unholy,  thai  announce- 
ment raised  two  other  questions.  Will  God 
pardon  the  past?  And  if  he  should,  how 
are  we  to  get  those  holy  dispositions  which 
are  so  essential  to  blessedness  ?  And  at 
sundry  times,  and  in  divers  places,  he  an- 
swered both  these  questions.  "  Will  God 
pardon  the  past?"  —  "Yes;  for  God  so 


THE    TRUE    DISCIPLE.  273 


loved  the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  be- 
gotten Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him 
should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life." 
That  is,  "  accept  my  atonement,  and  you 
shall  not  die  for  your  own  sin.  Employ 
me  as  your  Mediator,  and  eternal  life  is 
your  own.  Believe  and  be  forgiven." 
Again.  "  Supposing  sin  is  pardoned,  how 
ai-e  holy  dispositions  to  be  created  and  fos- 
tered in  this  wicked  heart  of  mine?" — - 
"  Jesus  stood  and  cried,  If  any  man  thirst 
(for  holiness)  let  him  come  unto  me,  and 
drink.  He  that  believeth  on  me,  out  of  his 
heart  shall  flow  rivers  of  living  water.  This 
spake  he  of  the  Spirit,  which  they  that  be- 
lieve on  him  should  receive."  That  is, 
"  Come  to  me  as  disciples,  and  be  filled 
with  the  Holy  Ghost.  Believe  on  me,  and 
find  pure  water  welling  through  your  na- 
ture's bitter  soil.  Believe,  and  be  filled 
with  holy  desires  and  dispositions."  So 
that,  in  its  entireness,  Christ's  doctrine  came 
to  this  — "  A  new  and  holy  nature  is  bles- 
sedness. Believe  in  rne,  and  your  nature 


274  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

will  be  new  and  holy,  and  you  yourself  he 
blessed." 

We  have  said  that  Christ  was  not  only 
the  great  Teacher,  but  the  great  Lesson. 
Perhaps  this  will  be  plainer  if  we  take 
another  grand  question.  The  world  asks, 
What  is  happiness?  But  that  can  only  be 
answered  by  meeting  another  inquiry — 
What  is  God?  Is  he  just,  and  good,  and 
true?  And  how  is  he  disposed  toward 
sinners  of  our  race?  Is  he  placable?  Is 
he  propitious?  Or  is  he  stern  and  vindic- 
tive, and  determined  to  destroy  us?  Or 
is  he  altogether  indifferent  to  our  weal  or 
wo?  Among  thoughtful  men  these  que- 
ries had  been  often  mooted,  and  doubtless 
the  first  disciples  of  Jesus  had  often  mused 
and  pondered  over  them  ;  and  at  last,  when 
he  was  about  to  leave  them,  one  put  the 
question  express.  The  Master  had  told 
them  that  the  time  was  come,  and  that  he 
must  now  return  to  the  Father;  and  feel- 
ing that  the  opportunity  must  not  be  lost, 
Philip  exclaimed,  "  Lord,  show  us  the 


THE    TRUE   DISCIPLE.  275 

Father,  and  it  sufficeth  us."  "  That  is  the 
very  thing  for  which  our  hearts  are  break- 
ing :  we  know  not  the  living  God.  Show 
us  the  Father,  arid  fill  the  great  gap  in  our 
knowledge  —  the  mighty  chasm  in  our  com- 
fort." And  Jesus  answered,  "  Have  I  been 
so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet  hast  thou 
not  known  me,  Philip?  HE  THAT  HATH 

SEEX    ME,    HATH     SEEN    THE     FATHER." 

As  much  as  if  he  had  said,  "  Our  nature 
is  identical;  our  will  is  one.  All  that  you 
need  ever  know  of  God  is  manifest  in  me. 
You  wonder  if  God  is  holy,  and  just,  and 
true  :  have  you  not  seen  me  ?  You  won- 
der if  God  is  kind,  and  good,  and  loving: 
have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet 
have  you  not  known  me  ?  You  wonder  if 
God  be  gracious  and  ready  to  forgive : 
did  I  scruple  in  receiving  you  ?"  And  so, 
my  dear  friends,  it  is  life  eternal  to  know 
the  only  true  God :  and  you  will  know 
him  if  you  know  Jesus,  whom  he  has  sent. 
The  Son  is  the  express  image  of  the  Father, 
and  if  you  would  have  confidence  toward 


276 


THE    HAPPY   HOME. 


God,  you  must  take  the  Lord  Jesus  ag 
your  theology.  Do  not  think  that  the 
Father  is  less  compassionate,  less  con- 
descending, less  forgiving,  than  the  Son. 
Do  not  think  of  him  as  less  mindful  of 
you,  or  less  loving.  Do  not  think  of  him 
as  less  willing  for  your  salvation  than  the 
Redeemer  who  died  on  Calvary;  or  less 
ready  to  hear  and  answer  prayer  than  that 
Intercessor  in  whose  name  your  prayers 
ascend.  He  that  hath  seen  the  Son  hath 
seen  the  Father;  and  if  you  would  escape 
false  terror,  and  ignorant  surmisings,  and 
idolatrous  illusions,  think  of  Jesus  when 
you  think  of  God. 

In  order  to  be  truly  happy,  you  must 
have  some  sufficient  end  in  living.  And 
this,  again,  has  moved  much  controversy. 
What  is  the  object  to  which  an  immortal 
nature  may  devote  itself  most  worthily? 
Which  is  the  highest  good?  And  some 
have  answered,  TRUTH.  They  have  con- 
secrated their  days  and  nights  to  learning, 
and  have  lived  and  labored  for  the  true. 


THE    TRUE    DISCIPLE.  277 


And  others  have  maintained  that  the  very 
crown  of  excellence  is  BEAUTY;  and  in 
painting,  or  verse,  or  music,  they  have 
yearned  and  struggled  toward  their  fair  and 
ever-soaring  ideal.  And  others  averring 
that  GOODNESS  is  the  truest  joy  —  that  moral 
rectitude  is  the  topmost  apex  and  converg- 
ing goal  to  which  all  intelligence  should  tend 
and  travel  —  they  have  resolved  to  spend 
and  be  spent  for  this,  and  have  lived  and 
died  the  devotees  of  virtue.  But  if  you, 
my  friends,  understand  the  gospel,  you  have 
found  the  true  philosophy;  if  you  know 
Christ,  you  have  learned  the  SUPREME 
FELICITY.  In  the  Alpha  and  Omega — 
in  the  all-inclusive  Excellence  —  in  Imman- 
uel,  you  possess  at  once  the  good,  the  true, 
the  beautiful :  the  good,  for  he  is  the  Holy 
One  of  God  ;  —  the  true,  for  he  is  the 
Amen  —  the  truth-speaking  and  truth-im 
bodying  I  Am  ;  —  the  beautiful,  for  —  him- 
self the  perfection  of  beauty  —  to  one  vision 
of  his  infinite  mind  his  Omnipotence  said, 
"Let  it  be,"  and  in  this  fair  universe  you 
24 


278  THE   HAPPY    HOME. 

behold  the  result.  Yes,  it  is  a  blessed 
thing  to  have  a  life  rightly  directed  and 
worthily  bestowed  ;  not  to  live  for  a  phan- 
tom, but  for  something  real ;  not  to  live 
for  something  insufficient  or  subordinate, 
but  for  a  high  and  glorious  end  ;  not  to 
live  for  something  alien  or  irrelevant, 
but  for  an  object  which  claims  and  can 
requite  your  service.  Live  to  Christ,  and 
then  you  live  to  highest  purpose.  Live  to 
Christ,  and  then  you  live  to  him  who  loved 
you,  and  gave  himself  for  you.  Live  to 
Christ,  and  then  you  have  a  patron,  beneath 
whose  smile  you  may  dive  into  the  deepest 
truth,  and  soar  into  the  highest  beauty. 
Live  to  Christ,  and  then  you  have  an 
Almighty  Friend,  into  whose  arms  you 
may  consign  your  worldly  calling  and  your 
dearest  friends  ;  and,  after  he  has  "  put  his 
hands  upon  them  and  blessed  them,"  may 
receive  them  back,  no  longer  stolen  joys, 
but  hallowed  loans,  and  mercies  bright  with 
a  Redeemer's  benison.  Live  to  Clrist, 
and  then  your  soul  is  joined  to  that  fount- 


THE    TRITE    DISCIPLE.  279 

ain  of  unfailing  strength,  which  gives  at 
once  the  zest  and  power  of  goodness.  If 
you  would  servo  your  family,  your  coun- 
try, your  friends,  live  to  Jesus  Christ.  If 
you  would  have  your  existence  raised  to 
its  highest  level,  and  your  faculties  drawn 
forth  to  their  fullest  exercise,  with  you  let  it 
"  to  live"  be  "  Christ."  And  if  you  would 
be^in  betimes  that  devout  and  benignant 

o  o 

life  which  Heaven  prolongs  and  perfects, 
learn  from  Jesus  how  to  live. 

For  it  is  in  the  living  Saviour  that  we 
must  learn  the  great  life-lesson.  Jesus  was 
divine,  but  he  was  also  human.  He  dwelt 
among  us  not  only  to  show  us  what  God  is, 
but  what  we  should  be.  He  left  to  his 
people  an  example  that  they  should  follow 
his  steps;  and  the  best  idea  of  a  Christian 
is  "one  in  whom  the  life  of  Jesus  is  once 
more  manifest."  We  greatly  needed  such 
a  pattern.  We  did  not  want  so  much  one 
who  should  give  us  new  rules  and  direc- 
tions how  to  live,  as  one  who  should  him- 
self be  a  noble  specimen.  And  Jesus  was 


280  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

that  specimen.  In  books,  and  especially 
in  the  inspired  writings,  holy  character  had 
been  minutely  described,  and  the  rule  of 
conduct  had  been  carefully  laid  down. 
But  what  others  taught,  Jesus  did  and 
Jesus  was.  Before  his  appearing,  too, 
there  had  been  some  splendid  instances 
of  isolated  excellence  —  virtues  blazing,  by 
ones  and  twos,  from  dark  and  defective 
natures  ;  but  reabsorbing  into  his  illustrious 
excellence  all  these  scattered  beams,  the 
character  of  Jesus  exhibited  no  defect  nor 
dimness.  Without  a  spot  he  shone,  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness  —  without  eclipse  or 
obscuration,  "  the  Light  of  the  world"  —  a 
living  Decalogue,  where  each  command 
was  inscribed  in  letters  of  brightness  on 
tablets  of  love. 

Behold  him  —  how  devout.  There  was 
one  thing  which  made  the  Man  of  sorrows 
still  the  Man  of  joys.  He  could  not  lose 
the  sense  of  the  Father's  love.  There 
spread  constantly  round  him  that  melodious 
baptism  which  first  issued  from  the  e^r el- 


THE    TRUE   DISCIPLE.  281 

lent  glory,  "  This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased."  In  the  strength 
of  this  assurance,  he  journeyed  day  by 
day,  and  found  it  meat  and  drink  to  do  his 
Father's  will.  And  when  the  toilsome 
day  was  done,  and  he  pensively  eyed  the 
fox  leaving  his  lair  and  the  bird  wending 
home  to  her  eyry,  though  his  worn  body 
knew  no  couch,  his  happy  spirit  sought 
its  home  in  the  bosom  of  its  God.  The 
Father  loved  him,  and  that  love  was  the 
rod  and  staff  of  pilgrim  Messiah.  It  led 
him  in  the  paths  of  righteousness,  and 
comforted  him  in  the  valley  of  death- 
shadow;  and  as  soon  as  in  his  darkest 
night  he  waved  its  transforming  wand, 
Gethsemane  lit  up  green  pasture,  and 
Kedron  spread  out  still  water. 

And  so,  dear  reader,  do  you  enter  into 
the  Saviour's  joy.  In  becoming  his  disci- 
ple, he  says,  "  My  peace  I  give  unto  you." 
That  same  peace  which  was  his  constant 
portion  here  below,  he  bought  for  sinners 
with  his  blood.  And  nothing  can  you  do 
24* 


282  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

to  the  Redeemer  more  joyful,  and  to  the 
Father  more  glorifying,  and  to  your  own 
soul  more  hallowing,  that  when  in  the  sure- 
ty's name  you  claim  the  peace  of  God. 
Love  Jesus,  and  the  Father  himself  will 
love  you  ;  and  instead  of  skulking  through 
life  a  culprit  or  a  convict,  "  accepted  in  the 
Beloved,"  you  may  lift  up  the  eye  of  a 
dear  and  trustful  child.  If  you  would  have 
your  affections  fixed  to  God,  the  cord  of 
his  own  love  must  fasten  them.  If  you 
would  be  strong  for  work  or  trial,  the  joy 
of  the  Lord  must  be  your  strength.  If 
you  would  possess  a  deep  and  genuine  ho- 
liness, the  very  God  of  peace  must  be  your 
sanctifier.  And  if,  when  times  are  dark  — 
when  the  world  looks  gloomy,  or  shadows 
from  the  sepulchre  are  creeping  round  you 
—if  you  would  still  have  brightness  on 
your  onward  path,  learn  to  look  up  to  God 
in  Christ  as  your  own  God  for  ever  and  for 
ever. 

And    see    him  —  so    pure    of    purpose 
Placed  before  you  is  a  casket  of  gold,  and 


THE    TRUE    DISCIFLE. 


you  are  asked  to  guess  what  it  contains ; 
&nd  looking  at  its  exquisite  tracery  and 
costly  material,  you  think  of  a  blazing  dia- 
mond or  a  monarch's  signet-ring.  Guess  ? 
You  can  not  guess.  They  open  it,  and  re- 
veal a  spider,  a  scorpion,  or  a  spinning- 
worm!  And  surveying  a  human  soul,  you 
view  the  finest  casket  in  this  world.  Made 
on  a  heavenly  pattern,  with  powers  so  ca- 
pacious, and  feelings  so  susceptible,  in  or- 
der to  be  worthily  occupied,  it  would  need 
to  be  filled  with  some  lofty  purpose,  some 
pure  and  noble  motive.  My  reader,  you 
have  got  that  casket.  What  have  you  put 
in  it?  What  is  the  thing  which  chiefly 
occupies  your  thoughts?  Your  great  pur- 
suit and  pleasure  ?  What  impels  you  to 
exertion  ?  Is  it  money  ?  Is  it  popularity 
and  praise?  Is  it  dress?  Is  it  dainty 
food  ?  Is  it  some  fierce  and  evil  passion  ? 
Is  it  envy?  Is  it  resentment?  Is  it  self- 
ishness? Is  it  the  wish  to  achieve  your  own 
personal  ease  and  comfort  ?  Is  it  something 
so  paltry  that  you  are  ashamed  to  call  it  the 


THE    HAPPY    HOME. 


business  of  life?  —  something  so  baleful 
that  it  degrades  and  destroys  the  heart  which 
hides  it  ?  Viewed  in  his  world-ward  as- 
pect, the  Saviour's  one  motive  was  philan- 
thropy. His  life-long  business  was  to  do 
good  to  the  bodies  and  the  souls  of  those 
around  him.  To  pluck  brands  from  the 
burning,  to  instruct  the  ignorant,  to  reclaim 
the  vicious,  to  restore  the  fallen,  to  convert 
the  soul,  to  lighten  the  burden  of  wo,  to 
heal  disease,  to  banish  misery,  to  bind  up 
the  broken  heart  —  this  was  his  daily  call- 
ing, this  was  his  continuous  pursuit.  "I 
must  do  cures  to-day  and  to-morrow,  and 
the  third  day  I  shall  be  glorified."  Nico- 
demus  did  not  come  so  late  but  that  he  was 
glad  to  see  him,  and  the  Samaritan  woman 
did  not  find  him  so  exhausted,  but  the  hope 
of  saving  her  soul  made  him  forgetful  of 
fatigue.  And  so  pure  was  this  passion,  so 
irresp»3Ctive  of  accidental  circumstances,  or 
of  the  present  attractiveness  of  its  objects,  that 
the  leper  and  the  lunatic,  the  blind  beggar 
and  the  howling  demoniac,  Malchus  in  the 


THE    TRUE    DISCIPLE.  285 

act  of  arresting  him,  and  the  very  men  who 
slew  him,  all  came  in  for  an  ungrudging 
share.  His  last  prayer  was  intercession  ; 
his  last  business  was  beneficence.  "  Father, 
forgive  them;"  —  "Woman,  behold  thy 
son  ;  Disciple,  behold  thy  mother  ;"  and 
having  prayed  for  his  murderers  and  provi- 
ded for  Mary  a  home,  from  the  contiguous 
cross  he  bore  with  him  to  Paradise,  as  love's 
last  trophy,  the  spirit  of  the  ransomed  thief. 
Reader,  let  the  mind  be  in  you  which 
was  in  Christ  Jesus.  Seek  to  have  your 
bosom  filled  with  pure  kindness  and  holy 
compassion  —  a  compassion  various  as  is 
human  sorrow  —  a  kindness  which  shall 
still  be  flowing  while  life  itself  is  ebbing. 
Cease  to  be  selfish.  Learn  the  blessedness 
of  doing  good.  Even  you  can  contribute 
to  that  great  work  —  the  making  of  a  bad 
world  better.  Is  there  no  acquaintance  over 
whom  you  have  influence  ?  None  whom 
you  might  reclaim  from  a  bad  habit  ?  None 
whom  you  might  induce  to  read  some  use- 
ful book,  or  attend  the  house  of  God  ?  Are 


288  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

there  no  poor  children  whom  you  might 
collect  on  a  sahhath  afternoon,  and  teach 
them  a  Bible  lesson  ?  Is  there  no  sick 
neighbor  to  whom  you  might  carry  a  little 
comfort — something  nice  to  tempt  his  list- 
less palate  ?  No  invalid  friend  whom  you 
might  cheer  with  an  hour  of  your  company, 
or  to  whom  you  might  read  or  say  some- 
thing for  the  good  of  his  soul  ?  At  all  events, 
you  can  be  doing  good  at  home.  You  can 
minister  to  the  wants  of  some  aged  parent. 
You  can  sooth  the  grief  of  some  bereaved 
relation.  You  can  lend  a  helping  hand,  and 
lighten  their  labors  who  have  got  too  much 
to  do.  With  a  firm  but  fatherly  control, 
you  can  guide  your  children  in  wisdom's 
ways.  And  you  can  diffuse  throughout 
your  dwelling  that  sweetest  music  —  cheer- 
ful and  approving  words  ;  that  brightest 
light — the  clear  shining  of  a  cordial  coun- 
tenance. And  when  God  in  his  Providence 
sends  favorable  opportunities,  with  self- 
denied  and  prayerful  affection,  you  may  be 
the  means  of  stamping  on  some  immortal 


THE    TRUE    DISCIPLE.  287 

mind  a  truth  or  lesson  as  enduring  as  that 
mind  itself. 

Then,  too,  observe  how  simple  and  how 
genuine  was  his  character !  how  free  from 
extremeness  or  reserve  !  "  The  Son  of 
man  came  eating  and  drinking."  He  wore 

o  o 

the  common  dress  of  the  country.  He 
spoke  the  common  language.  So  far  as 
they  were  innocent,  he  fell  in  with  all  the 
common  usages  of  the  people  around  him. 
And  some  were  annoyed  at  this.  They 
wished  that  he  would  make  himself  singu- 
lar. They  would  have  liked  him  to  keep 
more  aloof.  Like  his  predecessor,  John 
the  Baptist,  they  would  have  preferred  that 
he  had  dwelt  in  the  desert,  and  fasted,  and 
worn  a  hairy  mantle  or  some  peculiar  garb. 
They  could  have  wished  to  see  him  issue 
on  the  world  from  some  dim  cloister,  and 
in  stately  speech  give  forth  his  mystic  ora- 
cle, and  once  more  vanish  from  the  view. 
But  they  fancied  that  they  knew  all  about 
him  —  his  birthplace,  his  parentage,  his 
habits ;  and  so  long  as  he  lived  this  open 


288  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

and  explicit  life  they  could  not  surround 
him  with  an  odor  of  sanctity.  They  were 
too  gross  to  perceive  how  much  of  Heaven 
he  carried  into  Cana's  feast,  and  with  what 
a  god-like  purpose  he  went  to  be  the  guest 
of  Matthew  or  Zaccheus.  They  forgot  how 
much  nobler  is  the  piety  which  hallows 
common  life,  than  the  demureness  which 
flies  away  from  it.  And  they  did  not  know 
that  he  was  doing  all  this  on  purpose.  He 
meant  his  example  to  be  a  pattern  to  com- 
mon people,  and  therefore  he  frequented 
the  ordinary  resorts,  and  lived  the  familiar 
life  of  men.  But  though  he  might  now  be 
seen  in  the  market-place  or  under  the  tem- 
ple-piazza, surrounded  with  people  from 
the  shops  and  stalls;  and  though  you  might 
this  afternoon  meet  him  amidst  lawyers  and 
courtiers,  in  the  house  of  Simon  the  Phar- 
isee ;  and  though  you  might  overtake  him 
next  morning  seated  under  a  wayside  tree, 
and  discoursing  freely  to  his  peasant-follow 
ers  ;  and  though  on  all  these  occasions  there 
was  no  assumption,  no  reserve,  no  artifice, 


THE    TRIE    DISCIPLE.  289 

there  was,  at  the  same  time,  no  weakness, 
no  sanction  to  vice  or  folly.  There  was  all 
the  refinement  of  a  most  delicate  benevo- 
lence, and  all  the  majesty  of  a  nature  sep- 
arate from  sin.  His  every  movement  was 
innocence  ;  his  every  utterance  was  purity. 
His  character  was  like  the  sunbeam,  visit- 
ing without  degradation  the  poorest  hovel, 
and  contracting  no  stain  from  the  evils  which 
it  failed  to  extinguish. 

Reader,  you  are  living  in  that  world  in 
which  the  Lord  Jesus  chose  for  a  season 
to  reside.  If  your  piety  be  sound  and 
strong  enough,  common  life  will  not  make 
you  carnal.  Have  grace  in  your  heart. 
Live  under  the  eye  of  God.  Live  in  the 
name  of  Jesus.  Take  your  Master  for 
your  model.  Pray  and  labor  to  be  in  the 
world  as  its  sinless  Visiter  was.  And  if 
God  should  give  you  the  spirit  of  true  dis- 
cipleship,  there  will  be  a  beautiful  complete- 
ness in  your  character.  You  will  not  need 
to  study  your  appearance,  nor  to  be  nervous 
about  people's  opinions ;  for  by  its  self- 
25 


290  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

sustaining  sincerity,  your  conduct  will  soon- 
er or  later  achieve  its  own  vindication,  and 
in  her  child  shall  Wisdom  be  justified.  In 
your  common  talk  there  will  bo  no  scurrility 
nor  scandal ;  nothing  false,  nothing  unseem- 
ly, nothing  base  nor  vile.  In  your  ordinary 
acting,  there  will  be  no  crooks  nor  crotchets ; 
nothing  shabby  or  unfair;  nothing  cruel  or 
oppressive ;  nothing  for  which  conscience 
can  not  render  a  good  reason.  But  those 
who  knelt  with  you  at  family  prayer  will 
recognise  the  same  man  when  they  meet 
you  in  the  mart  or  the  work-room  ;  and 
those  who  last  saw  you  in  the  festive  circle 
will  not  be  startled  when  they  find  them- 
selves beside  you  at  the  cornmunion-table. 


If  this  sketch  be  plain  enough,  you  will 
perceive  that  it  is  to  three  things  that  the 
mission  of  Jesus  Christ  owes  its  main  im- 
portance : — 

He  is  the  manifestation  of  God. 


THE    TRUE   DISCIPLE. 


He  is  the  Mediator  between  God  and 
man. 

And  he  is  the  model  to  his  redeemed  and 
regenerate  people. 

He  is  God  manifest.  No  man  hath  seen 
the  Father  but  the  Son,  and  he  to  whom 
the  Son  hath  revealed  him.  He  that  hath 
seen  Jesus  hath  seen  the  Father.  He  is 
the  express  image  of  the  Father  ;  and  as 
embodying  all  the  perfections  and  disposi- 
tions of  the  invisible  Godhead,  Jesus  is  to 
our  race  the  one  theology. 

He  is  also  Mediator.  His  cross  is  the 
meeting-place  betwixt  God  and  the  sinner. 
His  blood  is  the  sacrifice  which  makes  it  a 
righteous  thing  in  God  to  cancel  guilt,  and 
receive  the  returning  transgressor.  His 
gospel  is  the  white  flag,  the  truce-proclaim- 
ing banner,  which  announces  Jehovah's 
amnesty,  and  says  to  every  rebel,  Be  rec- 
onciled to  a  reconciling  God.  His  merit 
is  the  censer  which  perfumes  the  sinner's 
prayer,  and  makes  it  prevalent  with  a  holy 
God.  His  intercession  is  that  secret  influ 


292  THE    HAPPY   HOME. 

ence  within  the  veil,  which  secures  for  his 
Church  and  its  believing  members  the  gift 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  His  love  is  the  balm 
of  life;  his  presence  the  antidote  of  death; 
his  glory,  seen  and  shared,  the  joy  of 
heaven.  So  that,  as  the  source  and  con- 
summation of  all  our  greatest  blessings, 
Jesus  is  the  Supreme  Felicity. 

And  he  is  the  pattern  of  his  believing 
people.  All  that  was  human  in  his  earthly 
walk  is  for  our  example,  that  we  should 
follow  his  steps.  And  with  such  a  trans- 
forming agent  promised  as  is  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  with  such  a  pattern  propounded 
as  the  perfect  Saviour,  there  is  no  limit  to 
the  excellence,  inward  and  outward,  after 
which  the  followers  of  Jesus  should  aspire. 
To  be  "  like  him"  is  the  privilege  of 
a  perfect  world;  —  but  how  gloriously 
near  to  that  likeness  even  now  his  loving 
people  may  attain,  the  Bible  nowhere 
limits.  But  the  believer,  whose  character 
is  strong  without  hardness,  and  gentle  with- 
out weakness — who  is  consumed  with  the 


THE    TRUE    DISCIPLE. 


zeal  of  God,  and  who  still  glows  with  good 
will  to  man  —  who  is  spiritual  but  not  sanc- 
timonious, diligent  and  withal  devout,  vigor- 
ous in  action  and  patient  in  endurance, — - 
that  consistent  disciple  bears  the  visible 
lineaments  of  the  Elder  Brother.  And  as 
supplying  our  world  with  the  first  and  only 
instance  of  excellence  fully  developed  and 
perfectly  proportioned  —  goodness  in  its 
entireness,  and  each  grace  in  its  inten- 
sity—  the  life  of  Jesus  is  the  great  text- 
book of  ethics  —  the  grand  lesson  in  prac- 
tical piety. 

You  also  perceive  that  Christianity,  or 
the  knowledge  of  Christ,  is  "the  most  excel- 
lent of  all  the  sciences."  Some  knowledge 
is  entertaining,  and  some  is  useful ;  but  this 
knowledge  is  essential.  Without  it  you 
can  not  gain  peace  of  conscience,  nor  that 
refinement  and  elevation  of  character  which 
itself  is  happiness  ;  and  without  it  you  can, 
not  secure  a  blissful  immortality.  And  of 
all  the  sciences  which  treat  the  great  ques- 
tion of  human,  happiness,  this  alone  is  solid  ; 
8.5* 


294  THE   HAPPY   HOME. 

for  this  alone  is  constructed  from  facts  and 
confirmed  by  experience.  Some  theories 
are  popular  from  age  to  age,  but  they  are 
human  compilations,  and,  like  snow-statues 
reared  in  spring,  the  influence  is  already 
working  which  will  melt  them  again.  And 
other  theories  gleam  before  the  fancy  pas- 
sing fair,  and  as  they  can  not  be  caught, 
they  can  neither  be  confuted  nor  con- 
firmed. Like  the  aurora,  they  flicker  and 
amuse,  but  they  can  not  be  employed  for 
practical  purposes ;  you  can  not  collect 
and  retain  them  to  light  your  chamber  or 
your  streets.  But  Christianity  is  as  prac- 
tical as  it  is  sublime  ;  and  while  it  has 
truths  which  surpass  the  loftiest  intellect,  it 
has  applications  which  suit  the  lowliest  pur- 
poses. And  it  has  a  distinction  peculiar 
to  itself,  one  which  should  recommend  it 
now,  even  as  it  will  endear  it  on  a  dying 
day;  it  is  the  only  REVELATION.  God 
was  in  it  at  the  first  —  God  is  in  it  still. 
Hearkening  to  other  teachers,  you  may 
learn  truth  and  falsehood  ogether;  but  stt- 


THE    TRUE    DISCIPLE.  205 

ting  at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  you  can  learn  no 
error  there.  Listening  to  his  words,  you 
hear  the  voice  of  God,  and  nothing  will 
need  to  be  unlearned  in  eternity  which  you 
have  once  acquired  from  him. 

In  the  old  schools  of  philosophy,  it  was 
usual  for  the  pupils  to  bring  a  present  to 
their  teacher  at  the  commencement  of  each 
term.  And  on  one  of  these  occasions, 
when  his  disciples,  one  by  one,  were  going 
up  with  their  gifts  to  Socrates,  a  poor  youth 
hung  back,  and  there  was  something  like  a 
blush  upon  his  cheek,  and  something  like  a 
tear  in  his  eye,  for  silver  and  gold  he  had 
none.  But  when  all  the  rest  had  gone  for- 
ward and  presented  their  offering,  he  flung 
himself  at  the  feet  of  the  sage,  and  cried, 
"  O  Socrates,  I  give  thee  myself."  And 
this  is  the  offering  which  the  Lord  Jesus 
asks  of  you.  Give  him  yourself.  Rise, 
take  up  the  cross,  and  follow  him.  In 
modesty  and  affection,  become  his  disciple, 
and  he  will  not  only  make  you  welcome  to 
his  lessons,  but  he  will  make  you  a  sharer 


THE    HAPPY    HOME. 


in  his  heavenly  life.  He  will  give  you  the 
Holy  Spirit.  That  divine  Enlightener  will 
open  your  understanding  to  receive  the 
Saviour's  doctrine,  and  will  fill  your  soul 
with  truth's  vitality.  And  do  not  despond 
because  of  what  you  at  present  are.  "  This 
man  receiveth  sinners;"  and  in  receiving 
you,  he  will  make  you  a  "  new  creature." 
Arise,  he  calleth  you.  Become  his  disci- 
ple ;  and,  like  John,  imbibing  sanctity  from 
the  bosom  where  he  laid  his  listening  ear  — 
like  Thomas,  lingering  near  his  person,  but 
carrying  in  his  heart  a  stony  doubt,  a  stub- 
born misgiving,  till,  in  the  flash  of  over 
whelming  evidence,  that  doubt,  that  mis 
giving,  was  fused  into  faith  and  weeping 
wonder  —  like  Paul,  who,  in  every  pulse 
of  his  intensified  existence,  felt  the  life  of 
Jesus  throb,  and  who,  next  to  the  desire  of 
being  with  him,  burned  with  ardor  to  be 
like  him,  —  however  scanty  your  present 
knowledge,  you  will  learn  in  proportion  as 
you  love  ;  however  many  your  present 
doubts,  they  wLl  all  be  drowned  in  adora- 


THE    TRUE    DISCIPLE. 


tion  and  astonishment,  while  you  can  only 
cry,  "My  Lord,  and  my  God!"  And 
however  defective  your  present  character, 
there  will  be  kindled  in  your  soul  a  hope 
and  an  effort  —  the  hope  that  when  he  ap- 
pears, you  sluill  be  like  him  —  the  effort  to 
purify  yourself  as  Christ  is  oure. 


FAREWELL,  my  reader.  To  write 
these  papers  has  hren  a  pleasant  task.  I 
have  liked  the  thought  that  I  was  working 
for  working  men.  It  has  carried  me  back 
to  the  days  when  the  gospel  was  new  and 
the  Church  was  young;  and  it  has  more 
endeared  that  heavenly  Teacher  of  whom 
it  is  recorded,  "  the  common  people  heard 
him  gladly."  Much  would  I  delight  to 
visit  your  abode,  and  learn  if  these  friendly 
hints  have  done  you  any  good; — but  life 
is  short,  and  labors  multiply.  Most  akely 
this  is  all  our  earthly  intercourse,  and, 
except  with  pen  and  ink,  I  may  never  be 


298  THE    HAPPY    HOME. 

able  to  say,  "  Peace  be  to  this  house." 
But  in  the  Father's  house  are  many  man- 
sions. As  the  Saviour's  humble  disciples, 
may  we  meet  in  that  HAPPIEST  HOME  ! 


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